A Proud and Bitter Crown
by Caleigho Meer
Summary: Yami's journey from Pharoah, to the Puzzle
1. A Willing Sacrifice

The Puzzle exerted no more of its power than a falling leaf. There was no need at the moment, and as the Puzzle surveyed the waking nightmare of the Pharoah, it noted gleefully that Yami would not feel its presence if it slammed him with the force of a hurricane. The Puzzle faded into obscurity, to watch with relish another one of Yami's anguished moments in his human years.

The scene shifted like billowing smoke, then unfurled to reveal the memory.

Yami felt the burden of the proud and bitter crown perched loftily atop his head, heavy, and sliding down over one eye. His cheeks flamed as he raised trembling fingers to set it back in its proper position, as he squirmed uncomfortably in the too large throne. He fought the urge to fidget, to the point of planting both hands firmly under his bottom to prevent them from drumming against the filigreed arm rest of the throne. He straightened his back, and jutted his chin out, hoping to imitate the instinctive regalness his father embodied. He flinched when he heard the laughter of his father, and cast worried eyes upward to him. His father made no attempt to hide his merry chuckle, before clapping a reassuring hand over the young prince's shoulder, with a loving, indulgent smile.  
Yami's father rose to his towering height, beaming down at his son, before waving grandly to the gathering of his advisors who were now bowing to their king.  
Yami had sat through the droning meetings patiently, answered their questions politely, held his silence masterfully, but made it clear to all-especially his father, that he was bored. His father had fought the urge to yawn during one of the more long-winded speeches, but thankfully, his advisors brought mundane issues that were easily resolved. "My friends." The king entoned with a smile. "Be well, and be at peace. We will resume these talks at a later hour." With that, the King dismissed the meeting, and gestured to Yami, who eagerly clamoured to his feet. It had been his first time to watch his father perform his duties as king, and he was quite relieved to be free of the white-clad men blathering about matters he did not understand.

The king smiled tolerantly at his small son, his rich baritone voice gentle as he queried his son. "What did you think, Yami?" Yami raised his head with a petualant scowl.  
"It was boring, Father." His voice cracked slightly, and he flushed, embarrassed. The king ruffled his bright hair fondly. Yami had begun the confusing journey from boy to man, and while he was still slight, and short, thought the king ruefully, Yami showed a wisdom and compassion that was beyond his tender years. The Pharoah gently removed the burdensome crown from Yami's head. Yami scowled again, opening his mouth to demand it back. It made him feel regal, and powerful. His father frowned slightly, with a shake of his head. "No, my son. One day, you will understand what a burden power can be. This gold crown can be a shackle, Yami"  
Yami's eyebrows quirked in confusion, as he watched his father carefully set the crown away, before gathering Yami into his lap.  
"Father?" The king patiently cradled his son, waiting. "I don't understand. If you are the king, doesn't that mean that you do whatever you wish? Don't all the people have to obey you? How is that a burden"  
Yami found himself being shifted forward to the king's knees, and his father's earnest hand cupping his chin upward. Yami peered into his father's dark eyes, demanding an answer. " Yami." The seriousness and the sadness of his father's voice alarmed Yami as he felt gentle hands on his shoulders. "A true king does not do whatever he wants, Yami. He does what is best for his people, and sometimes, that involves great sacrifice. When you are king, Yami, remember to rule with mercy"  
The king set his young son down, and rose. "Now, let us go find something to amuse you. I imagine you are hungry as well?" Yami gave his father a radiant grin, and fairly skipped away, the promise of fun and food dancing in his bright eyes.

The Puzzle watched Yami's face lose its clenched look of pain, and a soft smile light his lips at the memory. As the peace settled over his now unmarred features, the sleeping Pharoah looked remarkably young. The Puzzle glinted, considering Yami, before casting a sickly light over the sleeping form. Yami's body jerked in alarm, and his face contorted, as he forced his eyes open, and propped himself up on his elbows. Momentary fear and confusion gave way to resigned indifference as he eyed the Puzzle coldly.  
"What do you want now? And why did you disturb me?"

The Puzzle flickered, pondering, but did not answer.

Yami grunted in annoyance, as he yawned. "If you have no answer, kindly leave me be." The fatigue had indeed doubled, and his head throbbed with the gritty irritation of insomnia, but he dared not allow himself to be lulled into slumber. He drew his knees to his chin, and locked his arms over himself. It was indeed going to be a long night.

My apologies, my king, for disturbing the pleasant memories of your father. You should thank me for granting you some respite from your otherwise rather monotonous existance.

Yami's only response to that was a dismissing, and very unregal snort. "The idea of me being grateful to you is ludacrious."

The Puzzle quivered, as if offended, and drew upwards with a startling feroucity. Yami shifted, worriedly. He shivered when he felt the golden rancor from the Puzzle radiating in a dizzying shower on the floor before it flittered menacingly to his forehead. Yami exhaled sharply, but did not flinch. He watched impassively, but the Puzzle saw his eyes following him everywhere with an intensity borne from long years of uncertainty.

Perhaps, my king...the words were mocking, and laced with bitterness in soft, cold cadence.

But if it is memories that you so long for, then memories you shall have!

Yami gritted his teeth, fighting down the tremor and the bile that rose to his throat, as he saw the glittering promise of more misery in the Puzzle's sudden flare up.

It was his only warning. Yami had the horrible sensation of slipping like water through the cracked shards of reality, and slowly trickling into helpless oblivion.

Paralysis. Darkness. Endless falling, groping hands blindly snatching at anything that would lend creedence to his existance. Somewhere in the churning oblivion, he felt the Puzzle's eager observation of his reaction to this new prison. The world shifted, brightened, lurched beneith him, and he felt himself fall into his own flesh with the grace of a leaf lazily waltzing over water. Or was he here at all?

He flung open his eyes, and abruptly slammed them shut. "Not this! Please, not this!" His tortured whisper was heaved out in a desperate prayer as vicious awareness clawed away the dream.

He heard the Puzzle's indulgent chuckle, and felt the smug victory radiating from the gold, as he drew a balled up fist to his mouth to choke down the gut-wrenching sob.

The Puzzle graciously illumiated the nightmare with heart-breaking clarity. Yami turned his face away, shut his eyes, attempted to grasp at any distraction or grace that would shield him from this.

Yami felt himself being viciously flung back into reality, or its imitation. Clad in his royal blue and white, the crown comfortable and fitting properly, the familiar flesh and breath and body, he found himself standing properly erect, his face cast in stone, his regal bearing and seemingly cold indifference shielding the thundering terror that heaved in his chest, or the grief that clouded his unteared eyes. The sheen of his bronze skin, the violet eyes...

The young pharoah stood unwavering on the balcony, silently viewing the ruins of his city. The land was scarred by the muck of charred remains, the smouldering rock and bricks laying in chaotic piles, and raw gashes from the battle lay as open wounds. The red sky above, the empty arch of moonlight was a dismal silver. It was as if the sky itself were bleeding in grief. In all the frail years of his young existance, Yami could never imagine the might of Egypt falling into shadow.

"No," he mused, darkly. "Egypt didn't fall into shadow. She was dragged, unyielding, into the terror and the pain by creature, and whip and knife. By blood, by battle"  
His voice rose in quivering disbelief, his eyes falling upon the large, gleaming carcass that lay in loud white against the deepening darkness. Priest Seth had called forth the mighty Blue-Eyes White Dragon to the defense of the palace during the last onslaught. The noble dragon rose high from the depths, the color of starlight and pearl, wings arched for battle, the glowing fire casting hope and light to the broken below. She swirled on the rising wind, clawing for altitude, her gaping maul radiating saphire lightening as she readied her attack. Seth had stood on the precipice far below, his body cast in the eerie blue fire, sweat and strain making him glow as well. His staff was raised high, chanting encouragement to the Dragon, and curses to her attacker. The arch of saphire light wracked the sky with a crackle, the blinding white flash illuminating the gruesome damage, before all faded to black. Yami heard her shrill cry of pain and saw the brutal retaliation. The dragon darted away from the returning blast, but she was not quick enough. The horrible wave hit her broadside, and Yami saw her wings arch, then droop as she fell helplessly to the darkness below. Hot gore fell from the sky in a silent, sizzling rain. The dragon spiraled downward, and the ground tremored in protest as her wounded corpse landed. The dragon splayed her wings, like a dying butterfly, with a wailing cry, as her tail recoiled. She shuddered, and was still. Yami bowed his head in grief and respect.

Later that night, a grief-ridden Seth and an exhausted Pharoah conferred with his remaining advisors in his chambers. Weariness and defeat were clearly taking their toll.  
Their heads were bowed, mouths drawn in effort. Seth was oddly quiet, only grunting in reply to queries and grimacing at the bandage that now swathed his left wrist.  
He declined to tell them how he was injured, only waved away their concern with a haunty but polite evasion. Normally, it would have made Yami smile, but now.  
duty called, with all its unmerciful burdens. Yami clutched his aching brow between trembling hands, and flinched when his fingers brushed the chill of his gold crown.  
He cleared his throat for their attention, and stood, bracing himself by the elbows on the wooden table. When they started to rise for the customary bow, Yami shook his head, sadly. "I appreciate the acknowledgement of my royal dignity, but there is precious little need for formality now. I beg of you, please, remain seated"  
He noted with concern Seth's wince. The priest was obviously injured but pride kept him upright and restrained.  
All eyes were upon the young ruler, and he inwardly cringed under the weight of their curious stares, eyes full of question, each face representing a loved one slain from the war. He trembled, bowed his head, prayed for strength to force out the next words.

With a deep, sad sigh, he spoke, softly. " You have all fought nobly for the protection of the people, and the glory of Egypt. I have never been more humbled, nor more proud to find such loyalty and sacrifice among you. You honor me, my friends." He bowed to them in tribute, his gratitude shining in his eyes, as the tears came unbidden.  
"Forgive me." He choked out, as he regained control, though his knees nearly gave way when he continued. " There might yet be hope for us...and ..a way to save Egypt"  
Dawning astonishment and wild hope broke forth like a shaft of sunlight, yet he felt ice trickle down his spine, as he shuddered. Seth's head jerked up, his eyes wary and narrowed, as he studied the young king. Such an astonishing gift certainly did not fit the Pharoah's clearly troubled demeanor, or why he looked so small and lost.  
Yami waved down the questions, the praise, and felt guilt under the burden of their faith in him. Drawing strength from a deep breath and a pause, Yami straightened, his royal dignity slipping into place like a mask, and his voice taking on the deep authority of a King. "Since the start of these cursed Shadow Games, and the fall of Egypt into darkness, I know that we have all been looking for a way to end this. I have found the way to end this, ..."his voice trailed off uncertainly as he groped for the right words.  
"But I cannot do this alone. There are among you here, who will disagree with my plan, or even attempt to stop me." Here, his eyes rose and settled on Seth, as the Priest returned his gaze with mounting anguish, and understanding. "But as Pharoah and protector of Egypt, I ask you as friends to abide in my judgement, or leave me in peace if you cannot. Any opposition will be severely punished." Eyes went wide with shock, and Yami grimaced. He was never known for his cruelty, or for using his authority to threaten anyone. He ran his fingers through his hair, then stared at them, with eyes full of suplication. "I ask you to please help me"  
He cringed at the broken tone and the fear in his voice. Perhaps it evoked sympathy, though, for he was greeted with a wide chorus of vows of support and more declarations of their faith in him. Yami closed his eyes, took a breath, and then blurted out his plan in one chaotic spew..

"I will sacrifice myself to seal away the Shadow Games."

The moment after the words were flung from his mouth, both the horrible meaning and what it would cost Yami broke forth. It hit as a tidal wave. He watched as his advisors stared in stunned silence before several lunged to their feet, and imediately began their tirade, viciously attacking him, berating him. The young king felt, rather than heard, the rising malestrom, and he felt as if he were drowning in a sea of chaotic screaming, demanding noise, and horrific needs he could not fulfill. He slank back, discretely into his throne, looking stunned, and completely spent. Had Yami been more alert, he would have noticed that two of his loyal ones still remained seated. Priest Seth looked as he had been stabbed, but not yet fallen. The combination of the pain from his wounds, and the stunning announcement had left him paralyzed. Priestess Isis was equally stricken, though her calm demeanor, and uncommon grace betrayed none of the storms that raged across her heart. Her eyes fell upon the young king. Yami had his head bowed, as if readying himself early for the executioner's ax. Awkwardly, she rose, to lay an anchoring hand across his arm. Yami startled at the contact, and met her eyes with a silent plea. Isis lightly squeezed his arm in understanding, offered him a sad smile in return, then turned towards the warring mass before her.

"I ask for your silence." The voice of Isis was said to be graced by the goddess she was named for. Yami was awed to hear her words, so softly voiced, carry like a wave of thunder over the shouting, and watched in amazement as the advisors stilled to look at her with riveted attention.

She turned to Yami, as he nodded. "I ask for your forgiveness for the cruelty in my words. Know that I speak the truth, as the Pharoah has asked me. There is no other way to end this. And the Pharoah is the only one who has the power to enact the seal. I am so sorry. There is no other way"  
Her words were quietly delivered, the finale of many clasterdine meetings with the Pharoah, of many whispered secrets etched in her tears and long nights studying the ancient texts for deliverance. For any deliverance. When she had first found the spell, she fought the temptation to have the scroll burned and the ashes flung to the wind.  
But, she would be disobeying a direct order from her king, and costing countless innocents their lives. Isis had nearly wept when she presented the scroll with shaking hands and visable misery to the Pharoah. Yami had studied it, stricken, but rose, with tragic resolve. He solemnly thanked her for delivering Egypt, and then, cupped her cheek in comfort and asked her to weep in joy, knowing that Egypt would be spared.

And now, before her, was the first step to Egypt's salvation, willingly borne by a young king who looked too stricken to even stand at the moment. Isis bit her lip, then turned to view Seth. Seth was trembling, and pale, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his brow. The wounded priest clearly needed rest. "Perhaps, my Pharoah, it would be best to end this counsil for now. If you are firm in your plans, there is little left to debate." Yami, preoccupied with his own dark thoughts and hurt by the sudden oposition paid her no heed until she clasped his arm, and shook him. "My Pharoah." Her words were harsh, but whispered. "End this." Yami drew two breaths, lost his open brokeness, stood up to the full height he had been blessed with, and then clapped his hands loudly. "My decision stands, my friends. So have I said it, so shall it be"  
Yami's face had the contenance of stone, and his thoughts were unreadable behind the stoic royal mask he had donned again. With that, he turned on his heel, and with a swirl of his cloak and a glint of gold and white, he strode out of the room.

Yami fairly marched down the royal hallway, his sandles making a stacatto rythym on the stone, his face stoic and forbidding interuption or questions. He had given harsh orders to his attendents to leave him in peace, and that done, wearily sank into the soft comfort of his private chamber. His vision blurred, his head throbbed, and he was so tired and so afraid. The tormenting questions flitted viciously through his mind. Was he being foolish in offering himself as a sacrifice? Was he strong enough to be that willing? What if it wasn't enough? What if he died in vain, and Egypt was hacked into pieces, either by a dragon's flame, or the blade of an enemy? Was this the answer?  
Here, away from the expectations, and the prying eyes, and the demands, he stripped himself of the golden ordiments, the guantlets, the many earings and last of all, cloak, and crown. This being done, he allowed himself an undignified slump of sheer exhaustion, and reclined into the sweetly familiar softness of his bed, pulling the silk over his head, and curling into fetal position, and waited for the sleep to overtake him.

Outside his door, two guards, thickly muscled, armed, and quite bored, lounged, and chatted quietly, while giving occasional glances at the sleeping king. His Royal Majesty's snoring resembled a noise somewhere between an irritated camel, and the hitching whine of a whipped mule, and he was sprawled inelegantly on his belly. Their conversation was interupted by the silken footsteps of Isis, as she glided over the stones. Upon seeing her, both guards smartly snapped to attention, hastily bowing, and stammering apologies. Isis offered a kind smile, and charmingly asked to speak to Yami. The guards exchanged troubled glances, remembering the strict orders of letting the king sleep. Isis dipped her head, in contemplation, then slowly raised her eyes to view them through glossy tresses the shade of obsidian. The bewitching effect was enough to not only have the guards bow and stammer, but personally escort to the bedside of the sleeping King. Isis permitted herself the indulgance of a naughty smile. To see the ruler of Egypt splayed out, and lounging was quite a departure from the majestic carniture she was presented with. It was endearing to see him looking so at peace, and she was loathed to interupt it.

"My Pharoah." Yami twitched, but did not wake. Isis attempted to rouse the king with a more forceful approach, by laying a hesitant hand on his shoulder.

It had the desired effect. The Pharoah stiffened, before exploding upright, disoriented panic and hazy sleep leaving him panting and very angry. His head whipped around frantically, calming only after he noticed Isis, who had one hand clapped over her mouth and a suspect twinkle in her eye of barely concealed mirth. Indeed, Isis was having difficulty restraining the howling laughter. Yami's confusion merged with a deep scowl, as he hastily adorned his crown and bare arms with their respective jewelry, before crossing them over his chest.

"Isis." His words betrayed no emotion, but the anger was there. "My Pharoah." Isis swept her flowing white into a deep curtsy. Yami gave a grunt of annoyance.  
"My lady, you are in my royal bed chambers, and I am currently in my sleeping garb. Bowing makes this situation even more awkward. Why are you here?"

Isis turned her face away, and Yami saw her hands flutter up to cover her eyes, as she stiffened, as if in effort to steel herself for the burden she was forced to give him.

"Isis?" Yami's question was uncertain, and kind. "What is it?"

She turned to him, her azure eyes misted over, and the sadness shimmering in their depths. Yami bowed his head, to spare her more embarassment at her tears.

"Perhaps this will become easier if I am permitted a moment to dress properly, and you have a moment to collect your thoughts." Isis nodded her assent, and swept out of the room.

With a groan, Yami lurched to his feet, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and hastily tossing on his blue cloak over his ruffled tunic.

Yami found Isis in the balcony, her azure eyes gazing up at the heavens, the gown she wore making her look as if she were cast in cloud and moonlight.

"You wished to speak to me, Isis?" She stiffened, gave him a startled glance, lips parted to answer.

"Yes, my Pharoah. I am sorry to disturb your sleep, but this matter could not wait." Yami raised an eyebrow, and gestured for her to sit.

"Well, then? What is it?" It was more of a growl than a question, and Isis visibly blanched.

Yami fought the rude urge to yawn, but feeling both the gnawing urge to sleep, and the mounting frustration of her evasive lack of an answer was irritating him mightily.

"My Pharoah, I came to speak to you about your plan to seal away the Shadow Powers." 

Yami arched one eyebrow high, considering her. Her only answer was silence, as he heaved a sigh and prompted her to continue with a curt question.

"Yes? I informed the counsel of my decision, and thought that I made it explicitly clear that I would not tolerate any opposition. What exactly is there left to discuss?"

Isis regarded him coolly, with narrowed eyes. "My Pharoah, please do not misunderstand my concern. I will not stand in your way if that is your chosen path.  
But, I beseech you to hear me out before you continue. I must know...do you fully understand the sacrifice you will make?"

Yami's warring emotions twisted his features, furrowed his brow, and pulled his lips into an uncertain line. Her simple question had effectively destroyed the fortress he had built of noble sacrifice, and lofty illusions of his blood being enough to spare his country and his people.

Isis glided forward, lay a steadying hand on his shoulder, her eyes full of compassion. "You truly have not, have you, my Pharoah?"

Yami bowed his head, miserably, before shaking his head. "I am assuming it involves my blood, and most likely my death, both of which I am willing to give, but"  
His voice trailed off into anguished contemplation, before he whispered, "but I do not know if I have the strength to do that, and I don't know if it will be enough"  
He suddenly rose, and strode to the balcony, as he swept an arm outward, engulfing the abyss of darkness, pocked by torch lights and threads of road.  
"As Pharoah, I know that my duty is to protect my people, and keep them from harm. To provide mercy and ensure justice." He gave a shaking sigh, before turning to Isis.  
"I know this, Isis. And I believe it. I have tried to rule as my father did. But, I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if it will work, and I find myself disgusted with my cowardness in hesitating so much." It was painful for her to see him so tormented, but it touched her that he would confide such vulnerability. She instinctively took one of his hands in hers, and clasped it in reassurance. "My Pharoah, do not doubt your nobility, and do not consider yourself a coward. Only the truly brave admit their fear, but continue, despite of it." Yami gave her a half smile, bittersweet and mocking. "

"I feel neither noble, nor brave, Isis, but I thank you for your kind words. Now," he continued gravely. "I know that you are not here just to express your disapproval of my decision. What is it?"

"Sealing off the Shadow Powers does not involve your death , my Pharoah." Isis's face was deceptively serene, but the shade of alabaster.

Yami's eyebrows climbed high and his mouth fell open. "What do you mean?" He shivered when he felt the ominous ice slither in his stomache as a warning.

With infinite sadness, and compassion, Isis kneeled to look him in the eyes, and he was paralysed by their brewing storms of anguish.

"To seal off the Shadow powers will cost your soul." 


	2. Betrayal

Yami closed his eyes, took a breath, and then blurted out his plan in one chaotic spew..

"I will sacrifice myself to seal away the Shadow Games."

The moment after the words were flung from his mouth, both the horrible meaning and what it would cost Yami broke forth. It hit as a tidal wave. He watched as his advisors

stared in stunned silence before several lunged to their feet, and imediately began their tirade, viciously attacking him, berating him.

The young king felt, rather than heard, the rising malestrom, and he felt as if he were drowning in a sea of chaotic screaming, demanding noise, and horrific needs he could not fulfill. He slank back, discretely into his throne, looking stunned, and completely spent. Had Yami been more alert, he would have noticed that two of his loyal ones

still remained seated. Priest Seth looked as he had been stabbed, but not yet fallen. The combination of the pain from his wounds, and the stunning announcement had left him paralyzed. Priestess Isis was equally stricken, though her calm demeanor, and uncommon grace betrayed none of the storms that raged across her heart. Her eyes fell upon the young king. Yami had his head bowed, as if readying himself early for the executioner's ax. Awkwardly, she rose, to lay an anchoring hand across his arm. Yami startled at the contact, and met her eyes with a silent plea. Isis lightly squeezed his arm in understanding, offered him a sad smile in return, then turned towards the warring mass before her.

"I ask for your silence." The voice of Isis was said to be graced by the goddess she was named for. Yami was awed to hear her words, so softly voiced, carry like a wave of thunder over the shouting, and watched in amazement as the advisors stilled to look at her with riveted attention.

She turned to Yami, as he nodded. "I ask for your forgiveness for the cruelty in my words. Know that I speak the truth, as the Pharoah has asked me. There is no other way to end this. And the Pharoah is the only one who has the power to enact the seal. I am so sorry. There is no other way."

Her words were quietly delivered, the finale of many clasterdine meetings with the Pharoah, of many whispered secrets etched in her tears and long nights studying the ancient texts for deliverance. For any deliverance. When she had first found the spell, she fought the temptation to have the scroll burned and the ashes flung to the wind.

But, she would be disobeying a direct order from her king, and costing countless innocents their lives. Isis had nearly wept when she presented the scroll with shaking hands and visable misery to the Pharoah. Yami had studied it, stricken, but rose, with tragic resolve. He solemnly thanked her for delivering Egypt, and then, cupped her cheek in comfort and asked her to weep in joy, knowing that Egypt would be spared.

And now, before her, was the first step to Egypt's salvation, willingly borne by a young king who looked too stricken to even stand at the moment. Isis bit her lip, then turned to view Seth. Seth was trembling, and pale, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his brow. The wounded priest clearly needed rest. "Perhaps, my Pharoah, it would be best to end this counsil for now. If you are firm in your plans, there is little left to debate." Yami, preoccupied with his own dark thoughts and hurt by the sudden oposition paid her no heed until she clasped his arm, and shook him. "My Pharoah." Her words were harsh, but whispered. "End this." Yami drew two breaths, lost his open brokeness, stood up to the full height he had been blessed with, and then clapped his hands loudly. "My decision stands, my friends. So have I said it, so shall it be."

Yami's face had the contenance of stone, and his thoughts were unreadable behind the stoic royal mask he had donned again. With that, he turned on his heel, and with a swirl of his cloak and a glint of gold and white, he strode out of the room.

Yami fairly marched down the royal hallway, his sandles making a stacatto rythym on the stone, his face stoic and forbidding interuption or questions. He had given harsh orders to his attendents to leave him in peace, and that done, wearily sank into the soft comfort of his private chamber. His vision blurred, his head throbbed, and he was so tired and so afraid. The tormenting questions flitted viciously through his mind. Was he being foolish in offering himself as a sacrifice? Was he strong enough to be that willing? What if it wasn't enough? What if he died in vain, and Egypt was hacked into pieces, either by a dragon's flame, or the blade of an enemy? Was this the answer?

Here, away from the expectations, and the prying eyes, and the demands, he stripped himself of the golden ordiments, the guantlets, the many earings and last of all, cloak, and crown. This being done, he allowed himself an undignified slump of sheer exhaustion, and reclined into the sweetly familiar softness of his bed, pulling the silk over his head, and curling into fetal position, and waited for the sleep to overtake him.

Outside his door, two guards, thickly muscled, armed, and quite bored, lounged, and chatted quietly, while giving occasional glances at the sleeping king. His Royal Majesty's snoring resembled a noise somewhere between an irritated camel, and the hitching whine of a whipped mule, and he was sprawled inelegantly on his belly.

Their conversation was interupted by the silken footsteps of Isis, as she glided over the stones. Upon seeing her, both guards smartly snapped to attention, hastily bowing, and stammering apologies. Isis offered a kind smile, and charmingly asked to speak to Yami. The guards exchanged troubled glances, remembering the strict orders of letting the king sleep. Isis dipped her head, in contemplation, then slowly raised her eyes to view them through glossy tresses the shade of obsidian. The bewitching effect was enough to not only have the guards bow and stammer, but personally escort to the bedside of the sleeping King. Isis permitted herself the indulgance of a naughty smile. To see the ruler of Egypt splayed out, and lounging was quite a departure from the majestic carniture she was presented with. It was endearing to see him looking so at peace, and she was loathed to interupt it.

"My Pharoah." Yami twitched, but did not wake. Isis attempted to rouse the king with a more forceful approach, by laying a hesitant hand on his shoulder.

It had the desired effect. The Pharoah stiffened, before exploding upright, disoriented panic and hazy sleep leaving him panting and very angry. His head whipped around frantically, calming only after he noticed Isis, who had one hand clapped over her mouth and a suspect twinkle in her eye of barely concealed mirth. Indeed, Isis was having difficulty restraining the howling laughter. Yami's confusion merged with a deep scowl, as he hastily adorned his crown and bare arms with their respective jewelry, before crossing them over his chest.

"Isis." His words betrayed no emotion, but the anger was there. "My Pharoah." Isis swept her flowing white into a deep curtsy. Yami gave a grunt of annoyance.

"My lady, you are in my royal bed chambers, and I am currently in my sleeping garb. Bowing makes this situation even more awkward. Why are you here?"

Isis turned her face away, and Yami saw her hands flutter up to cover her eyes, as she stiffened, as if in effort to steel herself for the burden she was forced to give him.

"Isis?" Yami's question was uncertain, and kind. "What is it?"

She turned to him, her azure eyes misted over, and the sadness shimmering in their depths. Yami bowed his head, to spare her more embarassment at her tears.

"Perhaps this will become easier if I am permitted a moment to dress properly, and you have a moment to collect your thoughts." Isis nodded her assent, and swept out of the room.

With a groan, Yami lurched to his feet, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and hastily tossing on his blue cloak over his ruffled tunic.

Yami found Isis in the balcony, her azure eyes gazing up at the heavens, the gown she wore making her look as if she were cast in cloud and moonlight.

"You wished to speak to me, Isis?" She stiffened, gave him a startled glance, lips parted to answer.

"Yes, my Pharoah. I am sorry to disturb your sleep, but this matter could not wait." Yami raised an eyebrow, and gestured for her to sit.

"Well, then? What is it?" It was more of a growl than a question, and Isis visibly blanched.

Yami fought the rude urge to yawn, but feeling both the gnawing urge to sleep, and the mounting frustration of her evasive lack of an answer was irritating him mightily.

"My Pharoah, I came to speak to you about your plan to seal away the Shadow Powers."

Yami arched one eyebrow high, considering her. Her only answer was silence, as he heaved a sigh and prompted her to continue with a curt question.

"Yes? I informed the counsel of my decision, and thought that I made it explicitly clear that I would not tolerate any opposition. What exactly is there left to discuss?"

Isis regarded him coolly, with narrowed eyes. "My Pharoah, please do not misunderstand my concern. I will not stand in your way if that is your chosen path.

But, I beseech you to hear me out before you continue. I must know...do you fully understand the sacrifice you will make?"

Yami's warring emotions twisted his features, furrowed his brow, and pulled his lips into an uncertain line. Her simple question had effectively destroyed the fortress he had built of noble sacrifice, and lofty illusions of his blood being enough to spare his country and his people.

Isis glided forward, lay a steadying hand on his shoulder, her eyes full of compassion. "You truly have not, have you, my Pharoah?"

Yami bowed his head, miserably, before shaking his head. "I am assuming it involves my blood, and most likely my death, both of which I am willing to give, but..."

His voice trailed off into anguished contemplation, before he whispered, "but I do not know if I have the strength to do that, and I don't know if it will be enough."

He suddenly rose, and strode to the balcony, as he swept an arm outward, engulfing the abyss of darkness, pocked by torch lights and threads of road.

"As Pharoah, I know that my duty is to protect my people, and keep them from harm. To provide mercy and ensure justice." He gave a shaking sigh, before turning to Isis.

"I know this, Isis. And I believe it. I have tried to rule as my father did. But, I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if it will work, and I find myself disgusted with my cowardness in hesitating so much." It was painful for her to see him so tormented, but it touched her that he would confide such vulnerability. She instinctively took one of his hands in hers, and clasped it in reassurance. "My Pharoah, do not doubt your nobility, and do not consider yourself a coward. Only the truly brave admit their fear, but

continue, despite of it." Yami gave her a half smile, bittersweet and mocking. "

"I feel neither noble, nor brave, Isis, but I thank you for your kind words. Now," he continued gravely. "I know that you are not here just to express your disapproval of my decision. What is it?"

"Sealing off the Shadow Powers does not involve your death , my Pharoah." Isis's face was deceptively serene, but the shade of alabaster.

Yami's eyebrows climbed high and his mouth fell open. "What do you mean?" He shivered when he felt the ominous ice slither in his stomache as a warning.

With infinite sadness, and compassion, Isis kneeled to look him in the eyes, and he was paralysed by their brewing storms of anguish.

"To seal off the Shadow powers will cost your soul."

-Bleeding...

Yami's heart felt as if it had grown hooves and was now pounding its way into his skull, and he felt time slow, shift, and stall. Two slender dark hands gripped his own, and he studied Isis's fingers with odd detatchment, noting the pain from her fingers lacing against his wrists, in an effort to dredge him free from the stupor. Yami did not breathe, did not blink, did not acknowledge her, but sat, mute and dumb. Flesh had turned to rock.

Fear had yielded to complete paralysis. With a furrowed brow, Isis jerked the still hands in her own, and flinched at the unyielding Pharoah's grip.

Yami heard nothing, said nothing, but could only sit in numb indifference, feeling as if he were suspended somewhere in the womb of time, and the horrible waiting. Isis's shrill cry pierced through his vague thoughts, and languidly, he blinked. Awareness stabbed, fleshed burned, his hands hurt.

He exhaled a deep harsh breath, as if he were drowning. From the hunger in his lungs for air, perhaps he was.

Isis wa still gripping his hands, a steel grip forged by pain, but encased in velvet like flesh. An anchor in this strange sea he was steadily slipping into. "My...soul?" He stammered, dumbly. Isis noted with relief that the Pharoah's eyes had lost some of the murky clouds, but waited for him to return to himself before she continued. Yami raised his shadowed eyes, his mouth set in a grim line, as he sighed.

"I don't understand." His rich cadence was indifferent, and dead.

"I am willing to lay down my life...is that not enough?" Isis could not speak, lest she start wailing. She swallowed hard to choke down the sudden boulder in her throat, as she slowly shook her head.

Yami straightened, the clink of his gold and his rumpled bed clothes pooling around his slender frame. Anger yielded to uncertain torment again, as he crossed his arms as if to errect some barrier between them. "I don't understand." His voice was laced with the threat of tears again, but his face was impassive, and his unyielding scowl of determination was etched in his vicious sense of morality. Isis released his hands as he rose.

He turned to her, chin aloft, and glowered down at her, the suspicion glittering in his eyes that had narrowed to knife points.

"Isis." Her name was abruptly heaved down at her with the force of a hurled rock. " I am growing weary of your repeated evasions of my questions. I am beginning to believe that you either have the answers I seek, and are not forthcoming with them, or that you truly do not know the answers yourself." His voice was a velvet roar of irritation rapidly yielding to rage. Isis cowered beneith the hideous glare, and shuddered when she felt the Pharoah's cruel hand snatch her arm, in a grip that would leave bruises. She yelped when she found herself abruptly hauled into the air, and dangling helplessly before she was flung down to the floor, where she lay in swoon. From the shadowed corner of the room, she saw Yami's pantheresque crouch, the sliding of his arms over his trembling shoulders, the warring rage and the contrite horror of what he had done. He was hunched over, the tears freely falling, the eyes full of pleading, as he buried his burning face in his hands and wept for absolution.

"Isis! Forgive me!" He extended a trembling groping hand. Isis cringed and retreated. Isis's eyes flickered from the contrite, bawling form to the throbbing bruises on her arm, and drew a flowing sleeve over them to cover her flesh.

"I forgive you, my Pharoah. But I will not lose my fear of you, now." Yami flinched as her soft mutilated into a whispered hiss. Yami's mouth was agape with the dawning horror of what he had done. Something raw and ugly had gripped him, twisting him into a monstrosity. He looked at Isis, helpless. She had trailed away into the darkness, her eyes burning embers of saphire, her body stiff and guarded, as she glided forward again.

Yami was being erroded slowly by the vicious beasts of guilt and regret, and she could sense the king's collapse if it were allowed to continue.

"Perhaps the Shadows deserve my soul if I can do such a thing as this."

"NO!" Isis spat, with venom in her voice as she twisted, serpentinely. "You do not deserve this, my pharoah." Yami swallowed down the agony,

and buried his face in his hands. Isis sighed, and worked a soft smile back onto her drawn mouth. Raising her eyes to the heavens, she spoke.

"You must sleep, my pharoah." Yami shook his head, and glared at the bed. "I am beyond the ability to sleep, my lady."

"Would you allow me to help you rest, my pharoah?" Yami's eyes shot open wide, as he gulped. "Help?" It was a high pitched squeak.

Isis allowed an amused smile. "While I am flattered, I assure you that I have no unhonorable intention towards you." Yami exhaled a sigh of relief, but began an awkward stammer to apologize. First he had dared to bruise the Priestess, and then he insulted her honor by taking a kind offer to mean she would act like one of the royal harem's women! He flushed, buried his hands in his hands again, and groaned.

"I am so sorry."

Isis shook her head in gentle dismissal. "My pharoah, you are forgiven. Now...allow me to help you rest." Yami raised a wary eyebrow. Isis swept a hand in a flourish over the extremely mussed bed, and bowed her head. "I swear to you, my Pharoah, you have nothing to fear." Yami yawned, and felt the cloying weariness anew. "How do you intend to do that?"

Isis gave him a coy smile, then gestured to the bed again. "Lie down, in the position that is most comfortable for you, my Pharoah."

Yami stared at the bed as if he had never seen it before, and lay his various golden bobbles to the side, and stripped his shoulders of the heavy cloak. Last, with reverence, he set the crown down, and then glanced over his shoulder at Isis, looking uncertain, and ...afraid.

"What now?" Isis swept a hand over the bed with a pointed glance.

Yami nodded, and lowered himself into a reclining position, his body tensed against the soothing feel of the inviting satin, his head swaddled in a cushion. His eyes never left Isis, and he nearly squeaked when she spread her fingers like wings in the darkness, and set them firmly on his temples. The light touch of air itself, encased in a woman's hand. "My pharoah, are you alright?" Yami nodded, awkwardly. Isis closed her eyes, whispered a soothing chant, as a wan golden glow spilled from her hands over the king. Yami cringed at the unfamiliar sensation, but felt himself grow limp as water, and cradled in serinity. His fears and cares fell away as the soothing darkness eased him to unconsciousness. "Thank you...Isis."

He murmered, almost drugged, before he closed his eyes, and went still. Isis watched his jaw grow slack, and then, his features soften. She smiled when Yami resumed his grunting snore. "You are most welcome, my brave king." She caressed his forehead, allowing her hand to linger on his brow, as she whispered another chant to prevent nightmares from disturbing him. Yawning herself, she slipped away to her own chambers.

(A/N-Isis and Yami are NOT a couple here.)

The Womb of Time.

The light and shadows shifted, stretched, then rudely snapped, as Yami gave a startled cry, and bolted awake. Yami blinked, staring at the stones he has propped himself upon, then snapped his head around,drinking in the golden bricks with a shiver. Gone was the soft bed, the slumber, his homeland. The waking nightmare was back, as familiar as his own flesh. The Puzzle shimmered in mock welcome, as Yami winced at the brightness, flinging an arm over his eyes.

"What...do you want now?" Yami wrinkled his brow, still befuddled by his rude awakening.

"_Welcome back, my king." _The Puzzle's voice was velvet and ice as it soared gracefully before coming to rest inches from Yami's face. Yami scuttled backwards, until his spine felt the chill of the wall behind him.

"_Was your memory a pleasant one, my king? Did it warm your heart to relive the last time of peace before your death? "_

The questions were cruel. Yami's eyes flickered, and his cheek twitched, but he did not answer. He had no answer to give.

The Puzzle was fairly glittering with vicious mirth, as it flitted casually away. Yami exhaled the breath he had been holding. The Puzzle said nothing more, but seemed to be extremely interested in Yami's pensive silence. Yami folded his arms across his chest, an old habbit of self-protection, as he sighed.

"Will you permit me to rest now?" His voice was flatly indifferent to the answer, and the Puzzle noted that the Pharoah was struggling mightily to keep his eyes open. His eyes glazed, and his lids slowly closed, as his head drooped.

The Puzzle waited until Yami's breathing slowed, and had slipped back into his slumbering, then emitted a hiss and a shower of sparks, searing Yami's flesh. The Pharoah's face contorted with a choked whimper, as he buried his face deeper into his arms, drawing his knees up to cacoon his throbbing brain into some resemblance of comfort. "Please. Let me sleep." Yami did not raise his head, or open his eyes. His perception of reality had taken on an odd sluggish tone, his thoughts heavy, as if they were cast of stone, and his brain ached from the difficulty in building them into something tangible he could grasp. He did not even flinch when the Puzzle tested his mental defenses. The Puzzle was smug. Normally such an act would result in a royal fit of rage, or at least some bueatifully worded declaration of scorn, but apparently, the Pharoah was too worn down to resist.

_Worn down, but not broken..._mused the Puzzle. The Puzzle gave Yami's barriers another try. Yami's face contorted, and he twitched, but made no move to defend himself.

With an abrupt swirl of fire and light, the Puzzle pierced Yami's mind. Yami errupted, with a shrill cry of pain, his strangled breath hitched in his frozen chest, his vision fading into darkness, as he clawed futily at his burning forehead, as if to tear his skull open to rid himself of the agony.

Darkness clouded over him, his breath stayed lodged in his throat, as he went limp and paralyzed as water, not even able to sob his anguish.

The Puzzle watched his agony with amused indifference, but noted the deathly stillness and unnatural pallour Yami's face had taken in the last few moments.

The Puzzle released its hold enough to allow Yami breath before flinging the young king into another fragment of his past.

Yami could only choke out a shrill cry before going limp, his eyes wide and staring, a tear burning its silver trail down his cheek.

Images swirled, the cataphony of noise and chaotic sensations churning in his gut left him too numb and bewildered to even think. Sluggish awareness brought life to his limbs, his head felt as if Anubis himself was chewing on it, and his eyelids felt like they were made of stone. He was too dazed to make the attempt, anyway. He flinched when he felt the drop of water dribble down his forehead. He was further perplexed when he heard the sound of a woman's soft weeping. He forced his eyes open, to view Isis bent over him, her face contorted with tears, a bejeweled chalice in her hand.

"Isis.." His voice was rasped out, and confused, as he attempted to reach a hand out to comfort her. His arm refused to respond. Indeed, even speaking required a strange amount of effort. His limbs felt torpid, his mind felt as if it were a bubble on the verge of floating away, and his whole body felt...heavy, and alien, as if it were no longer a part of him. Through the thick vapid torpur that he was caught in, he managed to force Isis's name out again. His mouth tasted of a strange bitterness with a tang of bile and some other substance he could not name. Timidly, he touched his tongue to the side of his lip, and inhaled sharply, at the realization. His eyes darted to the chalice,and attempted to roll off the bed. His body refused to obey his command, and despite the sluggish amanthea that now gripped his limbs, he raised blazing eyes to Isis. "You poisoned me." His befuddled voice was mixed with awe and fury at her actions. "But why?"

"I may not be able to stop you from sacrificing yourself, my king, but I can stop you from suffering."

With a solemn nod, she raised high the jeweled chalice, mixed with the sacrificial wine, and the herb, with a sad look of finality, and a nod to her white clad helpers.

Yami heard nothing but the soft brush of cloth and foot steps before he felt himself being seized by at least four sets of hands. His vision faded in and out, as he saw their glowering masks burning down on him. He could not move.

Yami gulped fearfully, wincing when the grips on his arms tightened, to the point of cutting into his flesh, but was unable to even raise his head. It was an eerie, floating sensation, that he might have found pleasant, had he not been poisoned and at the mercy of his high priestess.

He felt a cloth being firmly held over his nose and mouth, as he tried to buck it off, rolling his head away, frantically.

He couldn't breathe! Yami thrashed blindly, purely on instinct, as they held him down, as somebody murmered soothing words into his ear. Tears were streaming from his eyes, as he twisted his face away in terror. Vaguely, he felt gentling hands weaving through his hair, fingers templed on his forehead, a spell being chanted. Yami felt the strangling anguish slacken, and the cold metal of the chalice's rim proffered firmly to his lips. Yami drew his lips together, clenched his teeth together as hard as possible, and felt hands at his temples force his head to remain still.  
"I am sorry for my betrayal, my Pharoah. But you must drink."

Yami's only answer was a whipping shake of his head, and a desperate attempt to keep his mouth away from the toxic brew. What he wasn't expecting was the vicious blow to his ribs. He felt something give way, a sickening crack and he arched his back to wail at the blinding pain. It was all the leverage that was needed. He felt his body tilted downward, the chalice's liquid abruptly flung in his face, the contents dribbling past his clenched teeth.

He was openly sobbing when they forced the bitter drink down his throat, and tried in vain to spew it back into their hated faces. As if in anticipation from such a move, he felt a hand clamp firmly over his mouth, another hand almost breaking his nose from pinching it shut. Another hand, perversely gentle, lighted on his heaving throat and massaged the muscles in an attempt to encourage him to swallow. Yami choked the bitter liquid down, gagging and coughing as it burned its way down his throat.

He shuddered when he felt a hand lightly stroking his hair, and he started weeping when he felt himself being restrained again. To be stripped of all and any means to defend himself and at the mercy of such brutality had finally broken him. Isis blanched when she saw Yami's eyes full of torture, the hideous way his entire body tensed in the onslaught, and the whimpering sob that left the once regal king a wrecked, weeping carnature. Her helpers eyed her nervously, darting glances at her as if asking for direction, as she gestured for them to keep their restraining grip on the trembling king. "Do not fear.We only need to wait a bit longer for it to take effect, and for our king to be in peaceful slumber."

Yami's only answer was a strangled grunt, as he flinched under her cold hand, and his eyes blazed in anguish and mute, helpless rage. Amythist cloaked in fire.

Isis lay a hand on his cheek and he tried to wretch it away. "My king, I know that I have betrayed you, and that when you recover from this, my life will be forfeit. I only ask that you have mercy on my kin, as they have no responsibility for my actions, and know that I did this treachery for you and for Egypt."

Yami heaved a deep, shuddering breath, hitching in pain from his fractured rib, and shook his head, his eyes full of tears. His hands groped blindly at the blankets, before he gave a gut-wrenching whine of surrender, and futilty. He closed his eyes and went limp beneith their restraining hands, tears trickling slowly down his drawn cheeks.

A single tear slid down Isis's cheek as well.


	3. A Dagger to the heart

Time seemed to stop, as if in horrible waiting for what would happen next. Isis put a hand over her pounding heart, unable to tear her eyes away from the broken form that lay so viciously splayed and violated before her. She fought the urge to wretch, as she forced herself to take a full long look at the young king, as penance. Yami's face was contorted, the eyes slammed shut, the mouth twisted in a mute scream, the tears and the remains of the liquid spewed around his bared lips, and dribbled down his collar. His arms and legs were thrown sporatically against the sheets wound around his limbs, as if he were still a combatant- 

No. Isis shook her head, with a shudder. A combatant was armed with a sword, given a chance to defend himself, and was allowed the mercy of honor, in battle.  
Being held down by four strong men, after being injured and drugged could not be misconstrued as anything less than a savage act of depravity, regardless of her reasons.  
Isis ran a hand over her shivering brow, straightened, gave the curt order for the young king to be released. The men abruptly dropped their grip, and Yami sunk down bonelessly into the sheets, as if he had died. Isis felt the cold fear dribble ice down her spine as she hastily held a hand over Yami's mouth. She felt the soft breath, and said a silent prayer of thanks.

"My lady?" She turned sharply. One of the men dipped low in a nervous bow, his eyes flickering between her and Yami, with uncertainty. "My apologies, my lady, but...has...did His Majesty die?" Isis gave them a dazzlingly gracious smile, though she choked back a snarl at such impertenence. "No, friend. His Highness did not pass away, and no harm shall come to him, but a deep slumber. He will wake up quite refreshed, and pleased with his new change of plans. No harm will come to you, either. You will be richly rewarded for your aid in this matter."

The man kneeled lower. "Thank you, my lady, for your gracious answer. May I ask what your wishes are, now?" Isis rose, her eyes never leaving Yami. The Pharoah, normally plagued by nightmares, was usually as restless as a hound chasing a rabbit. To see him so still was disconcerting her, even if the draught she forced down his throat was hardly fatal. Indeed, the stupor that he seemed lost in was brought on by the shock, and the searing pain of his broken rib, and the sleeping draught. Almost timidly, she placed a hand at his side, and was startled to feel the bone itself yield. Yami did not respond. She bit her lip, thoughtfully, and whispered, as her fingers began to glow. She meant to cast a gentle spell of healing, to knit his bruised side together, and heal him, but to her suprise, the glow faltered, then died uselessly, but not before a searing pain shot through her arm. She withdrew her arm, startled. Yami cried out softly, as he flinched, but lay still again. Isis straightened, with a considering eyebrow arched in worry. Yami had choked down enough that he should have been completely unresponsive to any pain at all. And her healing spell hadn't just faltered, it had somehow turned to flame and hurt her.

"My lady?" Her eyes lost their considering glaze, and slid up to the obedient man, who was still kneeling and awaiting his orders. Her soft answer, "A moment, please"  
and her beguiling smile was enough to stall for a few precious minutes. If she couldn't cast her spells...her heart clenched in fear, as her eyes flickered to the Pharoah, and then back to her still outstretched hand. "My lady? The palace guard is changing soon. We do not have time to linger here." She waved a hand, and hissed for silence, closed her eyes, considered any number of brutal options. "You may leave us." The man's eyes widened, and his jaw gaped. "My lady?" He asked, clearly puzzled. Isis sighed, as her slim fingers slid into the folds of her robe.  
The clink of the golden coins, and the pointed look at the door was all the encouragement the four needed to be on their way. The one who spoke was clearly unnerved by the strange turn of events, and hesitated.

Isis rose to face him, her face suddenly hard, and her eyes blazing. "Sir." Her voice was a malicious whisper, "You may leave now with your gold and never speak of this again, or you may leave when I have the palace guards lock you away

"My lady!" Came his panicked reply as he hastily bowed, then took off at a good sprint, as if Anubis himself were chasing him.

Isis was oddly detached and serene as she slid back into her seated position, to resume her lonely watch of the Pharoah. God only knew if she would be forgiven, or spared, but she harbored no delusions about her pending execution. Since she was a woman, Yami would probably be more inclined to show mercy by a gentle death, perhaps asp's venom, or even exile. She watched the wafting sunlight, spilling red upon the torn hills, as if Ra himself was bleeding over them. She turned to the sleeping Pharoah, and shook her head at the cruelty of the whole thing. There was nothing left for her to do now but wait for the Pharoah to wake. If her plan failed, her execution would be merely a trifling matter compared to the evil she was trying so hard to prevent. She clasped her hands to her aching skull, and turned away from the Pharoah.  
She felt the strands of her intentions snapping thin, and unraveling, Egypt falling into shadow, and her noble king dying any way.

It was then she heard the small choking sigh, and saw Yami's eyebrows knot themselves together, before his whole body twitched. In suprise, she swirled to see Yami stirring.  
His eyelids slowly fluttered open, amythest glittering in the wan light, and then catching fire as they narrowed when they saw her. It was as if the bowels of hell had opened and transplanted themselves into his corneas.

She heard him growl, his lips were pulled back in a threatening snarl, as he struggled to rise from the bed. His drugged limbs refused to obey, and he could only drag his head up from the pillow with a supreme effort. The only sound was the thunder of her heart in her ears, and her audible swallow as his eyes swathed down upon her like an ocean wave of bitter hatred. Gone was the kind Pharoah, or the broken figure she had drugged into submission. In her single act, she had stripped him defenseless, but also robbed him of any reason for him to show mercy. No, she realized with a rising surge of terror churning in her gut. She had torn away his trust, and was left with the aftermath and the demon before her to contend with. Indeed, Yami looked evil, with that cold, dead glimmer viciously lighting his eyes, and that smile that now twisted his mouth into something ugly.

Yami made no sound, no move, but the silence was broken by his harsh breath, and the shredding of the sheets beneith his nails now splayed like talons. Fury had done a commendable job of dispelling the drugged fog, or the sudden wound of Isis's betrayal. Yami felt the flames surging through his veins, burning white heat and then fading into cool calculation as he continued to stare at Isis.

"Tell me why I should not order you tortured and slain for your betrayal, right now." Yami's voice was soft, but menacing, and Isis heard the promised threat willingly carried out as soon as he gave the order.

Helpless, she flung her arms wide, and shook her head, in tears. "I cannot give you a reason, my king. I am sorry."

Yami's eyebrow raised slightly, as he cocked his head to consider her. "Perhaps I should have the answers I seek cut from the throat of your youngest sibling. Would that loosen your cursed tongue?"

Isis looked up at him in weary resignation, and resolve, bowed her head in surrender. "My treachery should fall upon my own head, my king, and though it would break my heart to do so, I would sacrifice my kin to prevent the coming calamity."

Yami sneered, "You are truly a cold-hearted wretch, Isis, to be willing to kill your own kin to maintain your delusions of this oncoming tragedy."

Isis raised her eyes to meet his, a bitter smile curled on her lips. "The fact that I would be willing to commit such an atrocity to prevent it from emerging should tell you, my king, how truly horrific it will be. Had I any intention of slaying you, why would I have stayed my hand until now? Do you not think I have not had ample opportunity to slay you as you laid sleeping, or even poisoning you at any royal feast?"

Yami's face went from gritting fury to begrudging uncertainty. Isis swept over to him, her sleeves fluttering open like wings, her face perversely alabaster, as she narrowed her eyes to peer down at him.

"You are weak from the sleeping draught, my king. What prevents me from slaying you now?" Yami's terror was very sudden and visible, as his eyes flew open wide.  
His throat clinched shut, and he shuddered.

Isis stepped away, laying a hand on the Pharoah's trembling shoulder. "My king, I swear that I mean no harm to you, nor have I ever. I have no intention of killing you now, or ever. I know that my assurance to you is futile, but I did this for your own good, my king."

Yami's jaw fell open, and his eyes were so wide, they seemed to be in danger of rolling out of his gaping sockets. His eyebrows climbed until they disappeared underneith the golden bangs

"You are mad." His voice had grown soft with awe, as he shook his head to clear it.

" You know what a strain I have been under, pressure on all sides, questions I cannot answer, and the fear I have of Egypt falling . And you came as an angel of mercy, with your tempting ear, and your cursed sleeping spell. And, like a fool, I simply let you lull me into helpless oblivion. You know how much I loathe and fear being defenseless. And when I was at my weakest moment, you came into the one place where I am at peace, had me held down by my hands and feet, while you forced me to choke down your poison. You stroked my hair as if I were a frightened child to be soothed into dreams, while your accomplice beat me until I passed out from the agony. And, now, I wake to find myself at your mercy, and you speak of it being for my own good?!"

He heaved a deep breath, anger yielding to sorrow. "Why did you do this to me, Isis? Did it please you to see me at your mercy? Does it please you now?"

Isis's ebony hair cloaked her eyes in shadows, and he could only see the piercing azure glittering down at him. Her eyes were revealed nothing, but her voice was accepting, and sad.  
"As I am at your mercy, my king. All you have to do is scream for your guards."

Yami tilted his head, grimaced as he attempted to force his limbs to at least prop himself into a sitting position. His limbs hung as limp as cloth, but he could feel the life slowly trickle back.

"I would have your answer before that sentence is carried out, Isis." Isis raised her head high, before flaring her skirts into a deep curtsy.

"That, my king, I cannot give you. But, I can give you absolution with my life."

That eerie, sad smile playing across her lips as she raised the jeweled dagger to her heart, her eyes raptured and adoring as the cruel point of the gold cut a riverlet of blood across her chest, scarlet blooming across the pristine white, the roses blooming forth from such torpid skin. Yami gaped, unblinkingly, as he shook his head.

"You truly have gone mad."

Isis's glittering eyes never left his as she raised the dagger high in a golden arch, and unflinchingly, plunged it into her heart.

"Forgive me, my king." Her whisper was placid, as her hands trembled, and her body shuddered in its death throws. Yami watched as Isis gently wilted into the growing pool of blood, finally surrendering as she peacefully lay herself out on the floor and died.

Yami stared rather stupidly at the Priestess's broken body, uncomprehendingly, as he felt the icy realization making itself known in the churning bile that was rising to his throat, and the hysterics that threatened to tear him apart, if he gave the scream a voice.

"Isis?" He whispered, hoarsely. "ISIS!" He shook his head in disbelief, felt his throat clench, his muscles turn to water, his trembling cease as his body turned to frozen grief and blame.

The shadows seemed to grow teeth in their hunger, as they shifted to a darker tone, and swirled around him. Yami did not even have time to cry before he found himself swept back into the familiar glittering gold walls of the Puzzle. Yami whipped his head around to stare at them as if he had never seen them before. With a growl of realization, he glared at his golden prison, and rose, cold fury pouring fire into his veins.

"You will pay for this. Damn you! Damn you for toying with my memory, for descecrating the memory of a dear friend for your sadistic game! Isis never betrayed me!"


	4. Deliverance?

The Puzzle did not answer, but Yami could sense the perversely smug sense of triumph radiating from the gold. He wrinkled his nose in regal destain, drawing himself to his feet, straightening his aching back. Yami's face was rigid, as stone, his eyes eerily bright, and his mouth drawn into a crooked, broken smirk, as he crossed his arms over his barely moving chest, and set his piercing gaze onto the bricks. 

"Enough of this. Enough of your treachery, your cruelty, your heart break, your vicious attempts to make me your perverse play thing"  
Yami bowed his head, prayed for strength, inhaled, and grunted as he raised his shields against the Puzzle. His fingers curled into evertightening fists, his body eerily warm against the power he was summoning.

The Puzzle's wry chuckle of amusement was infuriating, if Yami was still able to be provoked. Yami's only response was his eyes narrowing to amythest slits, their violet shade darkening to nearly black, as his lips twisted in the gutteral incantation that seemed to be radiating from his very core.  
The Puzzle's laugther abruptly ceased with a hiss of suprise as the Pharoah's fingers unclenched, to easily grasp the twin radiating globes of light that were spiraling between his hands.

The Puzzle grew uncharacteristicly alarmed when it attempted to break Yami's shields, and found itself bouncing off as if it were flung. Yami did not flinch. Indeed, he did not even respond. The Puzzle drew back, raising its points to dagger's blade, fed by its endless pool of the Pharoah's misery, and then flew upwards, wings arching outward, the golden phoenix with talons splayed toward Yami's heart.

"You cannot destroy me, my Pharoah."

Yami's eyes slowly opened, a glint of violet sunrise against the dark falling down around him, as he raised his arms in a high arc, the blinding white heat bathing his whole flesh in its glow.

Yami's left eyebrow cocked itself over the right, as his lips curled into a triumphant smile.

"Who said that it was you I seek to destroy?"

Yami raised his hands high, then encircled himself in a pearled pillar of sheer, white flame. A broken soul, cheerfully roasting itself in the uncertain promise of escape.  
The last sacrificial offering to the darkness in the hope of mercy in exchange. Yami felt no pain, no seering burn as the flames danced gently over his flesh, engulfing his arms, and eveloping him with the comfort of an embrace.

He heard the Puzzle shriek in outrage, saw its talons bathed in bleeding gold, glittering off his own flame, as it splayed wings out and shot downward in an attempt to snatch him away from the ever-growing circle of heat.

The Puzzle spiraled high, and dove into the center of the pillar of fire. The fire flickered, danced, then flared into an inferno. White light engulfed the golden walls, the world itself seemed to be burning down, before just as abruptly, the fire vanished. The Puzzle was left staring stupidly at its empty walls, its empty talons, and the dead gold of its walls. Where a charred corpse should be, there was nothing. No smoke, no ash, not even the smell of burning. The Pharoah was gone.

Yami found himself going from being flung in the air and flying blindly through the blazing light to being unceremoniously dropped on his behind with a dull thud.  
Trembling, he drew his limbs inward, panting for breath, making no attempt to assess his situation until he could breathe and stop the thundering heart.  
Sensation slowly trickled back, darkness gave way to light, and he gulped in horrible waiting as he braced himself to open his eyes. His spine was no longer pressed back against the indifferent gleam of gold, and his arms were no longer shackled down by their glittering shackles of his rank of Pharoah. Curiously, he opened his eyes, and gaped in awe of what lay before him. He raised his arms, and stared at the strange garb he was now dressed in. His arms were shielded by sleeves of deep blue, his bare shoulders covered by the odd jacket. He opened the front of his jacket, and his eyebrows shot upward at the sight of his chest being clothed by the black tee-shirt made of the soft material. He was even more mystified to see his legs swathed in the harsh, dark denim jeans that went to his ankles. He grimaced as he tried to move. It was nothing like the flowing garments he had worn in Egypt. Yami raised a foot, and gaped to see his shoes. Gone were the sandles. His feet were hidden by the heavy boots that glittered with silver buckles. Buckles...what? His hand ventured timidly to his throat, and he gulped hard when he felt the black leather collar with its iron spikes, held secure by the cold buckle as he brushed it with his fingers. It was the type of adornment a royal hound might wear, but certainly not a son of Egypt. He raised his fingers to tentively touch his head. He felt the soft mass, and was relieved to see the familiar blond bangs draped over one eye.  
He rose, unsteadily, and was suprised and relieved to find that some of his energy had already returned. Eyes narrowing, he looked over his shoulder to survey the strange surroundings, and most of all, the troubling questions of how he had survived, and where was he now?

He paused, to listen, to sense something. He did not feel the cloaked menace of the Puzzle, or longing nostalagia, so he knew that he was not locked in another memory.  
Had he inadvertently destroyed the Puzzle in his botched attempt at suicide? Yami raised his wrists, and gazed at the unmarred flesh, in wonder. His own scars had faded!  
He was too far alive for it to be another of the Puzzle's traps.

Yami sighed, in wonder, at the freedom of that cursed thing being gone. He felt alive, clean, unburdened, and so free.

The walls were white, as purity, lit within some pearled radiance, and the ground was a deep violet velvet, comforting to his feet, and warm. He ran his fingers on the ground, and grinned to discover how inviting it felt. Gone were the dark corridors that spiraled out into dark oblivion, and gone was the hopeless uncertainty and taint of the torture.  
His new home-he loathed to call it a prison- was one bright clean room, humbly white, and inviting. It was glorious.  
Was he finally in the afterlife? He did not know, and it did not matter at the moment.

This was a place of peace, he sensed. He drank it all in, the sweet inocence, the serene warmth he had not felt since he was a child. Bittersweet nostalgia and longing, both aching in their pain, but bueatiful in their passage gently flowed through him, without the Puzzle's vicious twists on his dim recollections of the past. The time in the Puzzle had coiled his sense of self until it snapped ruthlessly, slowly mutilated by the teeth of time, and his own growing anguish.

Yami pondered the strange objects in the room, musing. There was a small, narrow bed, piled high with pillows of blue and white, the quilt warm, and the sheets cool.  
It was a far cry from his own golden canopy bed with its gilt of precious metal, and arching pillars, but it was sweetly pleasant. Here was a bed that was far more comfortable than cold and asture. Yami surveyed the various toys that were scattered at random. The glowing glass marbles, he recognized, having played that as a child.

Yami stared in astonishment at the large, strange box that sat on a table. It was silvery-grey, the metal cold to his touch, with a square shaped pain of opague glass, and an odd series of what appeared to be buttons down its left side. He ran his fingers down the side of the box, trying to figure out its purpose.

His musings were cut short by the flicker of emotion that reverberated through his being, and echoed through his core. Yami instinctively cringed in alarm as he hastily raised his shields in reflex against a potential attack. It was unnerving, but he could not detect any threat from any visible source. It was an eerie sensation, as if the emotion were radiating from outside himself.  
Yami was further confused to note that it was a strong connection without any violation, a link of light that did not threaten to warp into a nightmare. It was enchantingly refreshing-whatever it was.  
Yami cringed when he felt the peaceful curiosity that withdrew itself rather politely when it sensed Yami's fear.

Perplexed, but relieved, Yami exhaled the breath he had been holding. Whatever this new presense was-he was reassured that it was most certainly not of the Puzzle. He shivered, and was amazed to feel the warmth timidly engulfing him.

"Thank you...who or whatever you are."


	5. To That Which We Bleed

To That Which We Bleed Over 

Yami drifted in and out of conscience, vaguely aware of the passage of time, but he did not know if time was spiraling downward on his head, or taking wings and flying away. The years coiled, serpentine over his aching heart, leaving him with the gift of wisdom, at the price of his scars. He remembered staring, at the gaping shards of gold that were jutting from his arm, and arching an eyebrow to try and figure out how they got there.  
He remembered that he had found a priceless gift of ...something. In later times, he would recall little of the strange, velvet dark where he lay bleeding what he thought was his last days. He did little but wait.  
for deliverance, for salvation, an ending, or even a change...he no longer cared which one would come. He may have laid in swoon that way for a thousand years, or for a few moments...he didn't know and he didn't really think it mattered much. He felt, rather than sensed, his days bleeding out of his wounds in a steadying, gentle stream, as he was slowly, lethargically limped deeper into the dark indifference.

He could not make sense of what had transpired. Light, shadow, hope, and vicious cruelty, all bleeding red and gold and dripping into everything til it no longer mattered.

Yami was not alone, in his injuries, however. The Puzzle had shivered from the alien sensation of pain, and recoiled at the shock of its own existance suddenly fragmenting when Yugi had accidently dropped it. Pride had prevented it from even hinting that Yami was capable of inflicting wounds to its golden walls. But, the Pharoah's infernoes had already weakened its defenses. The Puzzle had squealed in agony to feel itself stretch, and break, and the resounding ghosts of all the power, and the anguish it controlled amputated. Yugi had unwittingly saved both of them, when he hastily shoved the pieces back together, but not quickly enough to save them from injury. The Puzzle had managed to summon enough energy from its own rage and its own twisted sense of violation to remain alive, and sate its sense of revenge. When the Puzzle felt the gaping emptiness of Yami's soul suddenly rupturing free, and the alien light trickling through its reeling core, the Puzzle had rounded blindly at Yugi, who was oblivously holding the tainted gold in his shaking hands. That was the first time that Yugi finally comprehended that the pretty bit of gold he held in his hands was no play thing.  
And that was when Yami had nobly took the brunt of the attack.  
That moment dangled in front of the Puzzle's awareness, a taunting pendulum that swung both the Pharoah and Yugi away from its malicious control.

While the Puzzle had recoiled into itself to lick its wounds and heal, Yami had endured the disorientation of being more free than he ever had, and then dying. The Puzzle had noticed Yami's wavering awareness, and drank in the sweetness of his confused anguish, but not before taking the chance to ressurect one of the Pharoah's memories, and replay it for its own sadistic pleasure.

Author's Note: To Spare The Dear Reader Confusion, this is a flash back of Yami's time in Egypt, brought forth by the Puzzle. I know that it is taking a big liberty, since the Yugioh animae is based on Yami only having vague memories of his past. However, I am writing this on the assumption that he had a few, or else how the hell would he know he was a Pharoah? This chapter is also an attempt to explore exactly how Yami was sealed into the Puzzle. It is my fervent hope that I don't scar anybody permanently by this literary vomit, either.

--

It was the last day of his life. Yami clung to the rapidly shortening moments remaining by attempting normalacy. His servants were silent with the horrible waiting, his food remained uneaten, and he could not stop his hands from trembling. Yami had attempted to discuss the specifics of how his death was to be carried out with Seth, and Isis, and it proved to be an exercise in futility. After the gut-wrencing torture of arguing with Seth and Isis failed to move them into compliance towards his plan,  
Yami had been forced to order them to obey him as their Pharoah. He cringed when he heard his cold, regal veneer, and the crushed hurt that briefly revealed itself on Seth's contorted face, before the Priest grunted from his old wound, and stood tall, and stern and noble. With equal rancor, Seth snarled out that he would sooner lay down his life for the Pharoah than be forced to commit murder. Isis had aquinested with her mournful nodding, and deep curtsy, but Yami saw the understanding and the sorrow etched plainly on her face as she lay a hand on his shoulder to lend him comfort. Seth stormed out of the room, and Yami grimanced when he saw the suspicious moisture that had suddenly sparkled in the Priest's normally icy eyes. Yami turned away quickly to spare Seth the embarrassment and himself the possibility that he would break down into weeping hysterics himself.

Isis was kind enough to answer all of his questions, though he could see that she was already tormented by the brutality of the whole thing, until he could no longer stand it. He ordered her out of his chambers, and dismissed his servants so he could have the last few hours alone. He spent his time writing out the elaborate orders of who was to run the Kingdom, what decrees his subjects were under, a charge for them to be treated mercifully. He spent a great deal of time in prayer, for strength, and spent the final moments watching the brilliant scarlet and violet sunset bleed over the dunes from his court yard balcony.

He heard the soft knock on his door, and turned to see Isis enter. She gave him a deep curtsy and whispered, "My Pharoah, it is time"  
Her serene face betrayed no emotion, but the tear gliding down her trembling cheek made his heart ache.  
Yami reached out to tilt her chin upward, as he rubbed the tear away with his thumb, and paused to gaze deep into her eyes-eyes that were now cerlian oceans of turmoil.

" Be brave, my lady. I hate to see your tears, Isis."

Her face hardened beneith his hand, the trembling mouth twisting into a taunt, tormented thing with bared teeth.

"And I hate to see your death, my Pharoah. Would you order me to cut my heart out so that my tears may not offend you?"

Yami snatched his hand away, and looked as if Isis has struck him. His mouth and eyes fell open in hurt suprise, as he drew himself up in an attempt to hide his hurt in a show of royal pride.

"My lady Isis. I can either order you to carry out the sacrifice as my subject," His cold mask slipped away as his voice trailed off.  
He raised beseeching, searching eyes towards hers, and whispered,

"Or I can ask you to please help me do this as my friend."

Isis did not bother to hide her weeping as she flung both arms open and swathed the Pharoah in a frantic embrace. Maybe it was a means for her to hold something tangible of her king, or maybe it was the last desperate try to tell him how much he meant to her when words would fail.

Yami stiffened at the alien feel of arms wrapped around him, but then gripped Isis in trembling arms. Isis cringed at how harshly he clung to her, but did not cry out. It was the last embrace of a dying man's attempt to find an anchor to guide him through the horrible waiting.

After he released her, from the crushing grip, Isis tearfully smiled. "My brave, brave king and friend. I will help you through this in any way I know how...on one condition."

Yami's left eyebrow arched upward, warily, as he considered her. "And what might that be?"

"Only that you permit me a spell to ease your pain. It will not negate the sacrifice, and it will not change the outcome. But it will spare you needless suffering."

Yami felt his cheeks flame in embarrassment as the wave of relief coursed through him. He had spent most of his last night in endless pacing,  
nearly overwhelmed at the thought of the certain physical torture that would follow. He was hardly immune to pain, nor ignorant to the reality of the suffering. But he was in doubt of his abilities to bear it well, and the thought of his dying moments spent whimpering like a whipped cur was more than he could handle.

"I will take you up on that offer, Isis. And thank you for your kindness in this matter. I was greatly troubled by the possibility that I would be in great pain-not the suffering, but the concern that it would break my resolve."

Yami bowed his head in shame. It seemed like such a petty thing to even voice, but he felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder, as Isis nodded her agreement.

"I will be with you, my king, until you breathe your last. And may Ra escort you to safe havens, and a rich reward."

"My king, it is time." Isis whispered in finality.

Yami nodded, saying nothing, but took a moment to gather his wits, place his regal restraint back in place, brace himself for his own death, and stop trembling so much. Taking a deep breath, muttering a prayer, he placed the crown on his head, held his chin up, and silently extended an arm for Isis.

" I know it is not customary, Isis, and I hope you forgive me. But I am trembling so much that I am worried about staying upright."

Isis did not speak, but laced her fingers through Yami's, ducked down to thrust her head into the crook of his arm, and held him with a firm hand on his back.

"Whenever you are ready, my king." Yami smirked. "And how exactly does one get ready for this sort of event, my lady?"

Then, he rose to his full height, the concealing majesty falling back into place as the Pharoah strode towards the door.

"Let us go, then, my lady."


	6. Fragile

Isis silently glided beside the young king, her face a cool mask of royal indifference, but Yami felt her fingers against the crook of his arm trembling, and a suspect glitter of moisture in her fathomless eyes. It truly was unnecessary for her to hold the Pharoah upright, but Yami at the moment needed the anchoring feel of solid flesh and the understanding of a kind friend. It was also the last gift he could give her-the belief that she had helped in some small, tangible way.

Through the spiraling corridors, the flicker of torch light,the utter stillness and the horrible waiting of the hungry quiet that was only broken by the scrape of his sandals over the floor. Past the rooms he had roamed as a child. Yami glanced backwards more than once, almost expecting a ghost appearing from the shadows to greet him, so vivid were the memories as he walked through his home for the last time. His father's warm embrace, the Egyptian sun glinting its fire over the sands. Frolicking away his days as a child, before the heavy gold responsibility, and the strange,

barren distance he had from all that he knew from his boyhood as the result.The overwhelming sadness of saying good-bye to his father far too soon. All of his memories bled their way through his subconscious, trailing after each faltering step he now forced himself to take. Yami had always wondered what a dying man's last thoughts were. It was odd, he mused. He thought that his final thoughts would be preoccupied with maintaining his cold, distant indifference to death, and he would meet Death with a stoic, majestic sneer.Now, Yami realized that was nothing more than a meer attempt to distract himself from the finality of it all. Indeed, he was intently focused on how truly short the distance was between him and the room where he would lay down his life in a few minutes. How difficult it was to keep the simple tasks of walking and breathing in sync under the crushing realization that he was walking and breathing for the last time.

And, then, they came to that dark, open door, looking like a large, gaping maw ready to consume him alive. Yami instinctively shrank away, and Isis stiffened in suprise, as she turned her head to

see Yami's wide, transfixed eyes staring numbly. She felt the tremor surge through his rigid flesh, and the sudden pant that rose to his heaving chest. Yami sagged, crumpled, his face contorted, and he gave an imploring stare at Isis.

"Help me." It was a beseeching groan as he felt her steadying hands glide towards his elbows, her fingers lace firmly into his flesh, her head stooping to meet his eyes, and the overwhelming compassion and understanding there. Yami was so grateful for that. If she was so cruel as to mock him in his fear now, he would break.

"My king..." Isis flinched when Yami's broken eyes met hers. "Courage, Yami."

His eyes flickered up at the use of his informal name, and they paused. Yami inhaled deeply,

closed his eyes, and then rose, his mask firmly in place,but his gratitude shown by the soft smile he gave her. Dropping her grip on his arm, he strode through the door without a backward glance.

His eyes fell upon the ornate stone table in the middle of the room, heavily gilted with flowing script, and his gut clenched at the glowering shackles that hung limply from the four corners. He squinted as he peered into the corners of the room, and saw the white shifts of the palace servants. He shuddered at how they looked like ghosts waiting for him. They were watching patiently, dipping their heads in respect, making no move towards him until his signal that he was ready for them to procede. Yami felt the bile at the back of his throat, and clapped a hand over his mouth as he darted away, and once again, vomited. He felt Isis drape a comforting hand over his back, making small circles, as her other hand came forward to offer him a chalice filled to the brim with a strangely warm, and sweetly scented liquid.

Isis gave him a wry smile, as she brought forth a white cloth for him to wipe his mouth.

"Thank you-' Yami coughed hoarsely, his embarassment evident in the firey blush that now graced his cheeks, as he hung his head.

"I'm sorry." The young king's queasy and often unpredictable stomach had been both the source of much concern and shame that had plagued him all of his life. It was truly a humilating burden that was more of an insult to Yami's dignity, than an actual tragedy, but it had resulted in more than one meeting ruined by Yami's adominal rebellion,and a dignitary glaring down at his newly soiled shoes. Isis had proven to be a devoted friend by conviently calling the Pharoah out for an "urgent emergency"

when the Pharoah started looking like he was going to "erupt," as he indelicately put it.

"Of all the days for my stomache to erupt-Isis, I hope that wherever Ra sends me, there is no vomiting in the after life." Yami groused irritably, as he crossed his arms, and narrowed his eyes at the chalice. "What is this? Do you think it wise for me to drink when I just emptied my stomach over there, Isis?"

Isis's eyebrows climbed higher and higher until they disappeared under her dark hair, at the absurdity of the situation.

"I am not certain that we should be all that concerned about the state of your stomache now, my king. That will be rather ...unimportant soon, will it not?"

Yami allowed himself a wry, bitter chuckle, as he shook his head. "I believe that you are right, my dear lady. As usual, your wisdom surpasses mine. What is in that cup you bear?"

"It is what I promised you. To ease your passage, and soothe your way." Yami gazed deeply into her eyes, tears rising as he took the cup between his trembling hands.

"Thank you, Isis. For your kindness, and your courage. For your understanding, and your help. I thank you for all that you have done for me and my people."

Yami took a deep, shuddering breath, and gulped the liquid down, in one swig. It tasted sweetly of honey, and bitter as acoane, but it settled warmly in his gut, and he felt his quaking stomach relax. Indeed, his whole body seemed to be relieved of its aching tension, somehow lighter, somehow less afraid. Maybe it was the fact that his burden would soon be permanently removed, or that Isis had worked another miracle in her mysterious drink. Yami didn't know, and it seemed to be of little importance now. His eyes fell upon that large, empty table, then raised a questioning glance to Isis. Isis bit her lip, her face twisted, her throat clenched. But, she swept her hands in a wide flourish over the table, with a deep bow.

Yami offered her a sad smile, and whispered, 'Be brave, my lady."

Yami began slowly stripping himself of all the golden ordiments he wore. The rings, earings, the glittering collar that encircled his neck, the bracers, and even the jeweled belt that he wore across his slight waist, until all indications of his role as king lay in a shining pile at his feet. Yami shivered at the alien sensation of his bare skin no longer touched by the cool gold, or his limbs burdened by all the pomp and ceremony all that jewelry signified.

But, there was one more task he had before he offered himself up. Hesitantly, his hands traveled upward, and settled against the steadying glint of the crown that encircled his head. He closed his eyes, and slowly lifted it from his brow, gently running his thumbs over the glittering eye of Horus, as he paused, to drink in the feel of the familiar metal, the essense of his father, the hope and the people he was responsible for. The reason he was laying his life down when he had not lived all that many years. It was a bittersweet fate, but better to know that it had counted for something, than watch his years fade to oblivion, and count them as waste.

"Isis, come forth." His voice carried like thunder in the quiet, the rich command jolted her to the core, as she stumbled forward, her skirts pooling around her as she dipped into a curtsy. "Yes, my king?"

Isis grew paler as Yami held the crown aloft with reverence, then bowed his head with a warm smile. "Isis, hold out your hands, please. Or at least kneel! I cannot reach you from my height."

Isis dumbly held her hands out, as Yami gently lay the crown into her shaking fingers. He clasped his hands over hers, gave them a quick tightening, comforting grip as he relinquished his crown.

"My lady, I give you the crown and the authority of the Pharoah. I charge that you rule Egypt with wisdom and compassion, with mercy instead of cruelty."

Softly, he cupped her cheek in his hands, his thumb smearing a tear across the quaking flesh, as he whispered the words meant only for her.

"I am leaving this world in peace because I know that Egypt will be in very good hands. You are worthy of this honor, Isis."

Isis could not speak, could not breathe, and she was shaking so hard she nearly dropped the golden crown.

Yami gave her one last look, then turned his gaze to the table, his lips twisting in earnest consideration, before speaking again.

"It is time."

Isis nearly wept when she saw her king clad only in his pristine tunic, and it hurt to see him looking so small against the overwhelming dark and the fear.

With a solemn nod, his expression betraying none of his thoughts, Yami gave the table a long, considering look, and then, slowly clamoured up, and lay himself down on his back. His eyes were firmly fixed upon the vaulted ceiling, and he was no longer trembling. Blessed assurance had given him the strength to die as a Pharoah. His breathing was slow, and steady, and he waited with regal patience, his limbs relaxed, his bright bangs glinting in the wanning light, and haloing his peaceful face in soft gold.

He nearly winced at the bite of that cold stone against his flesh, the chill of the room, and his thin tunic hardly gave him much warmth. Yami supposed it was a minor issue, now.

It was so indifferent, so calculating, and mundane in its ritual, as if there were nothing amiss about a young king, barely into his majority now laying himself out like an offering on that cold, stone slab, and raising his chin to expose his heaving throat.

"You may begin."

I


	7. Death of the PharoahVery graphic

Author's Note: I did not want anybody to read this without warning them that this is an extremely gory, violent chapter. There is a little angst, but a lot of cruelty to the Pharoah. Do not read on an empty stomach, or probably not a full one, either. You have been warned!

My scars bear witness to the torment-

Of these falling chains in the forms of years-

A forgotten memory that none but I may lament-

As I bear the burden of these tears

And there, my uncertain beasts of twin hope and angony-

Rise higher than the clouds, as they might a swarm-

Only to fall back into me-

As they churn unseen in my inner storm-

They have said that shackles cannot be these pretty things of gold-

Nor can any truthful tear be allowed-

To pierce the self-restraint of my trembling that's taken hold

Only a glimpse of a wound that turns to scars-

Borne a burden so heavy, and proud-

Though I may be remembered, or reviled-

I hope I am recalled with kindness and not renown-

A mortal enfleshed, whose devinity could not be reconciled-

Between the trembling fear of such frail flesh, and that

Proud and Bitter Crown-

Hielo Warrenbeck, 2007---

He sensed, rather than felt, that bueatiful dagger, etched to sharp, deadly perfection, glinted silver . It was poised high over his throat in a gentle arch. He did not see who welded it, but he hoped that his executioner had a steady hand, and was merciful enough to slay him quickly.

He heard Isis murmuring a sleeping spell, and felt her hands on his temples, as he felt the familiar lull of peace lapping at the edge of his consciousness, as he felt his body growing gradually more torpid and unresponsive. His breathing slowed, gradually, his blinking grew more languid, and he was content to let himself drift away from his mortal container like a cloud might drift away from the sun. He hoped that the dagger would be entirely unnecessary.

None would know if the horror that followed was simply the ignorant act of a servant unfamiliar with humane methods, or if some unknown monster decided to butcher him.

Yami felt himself dying...his flesh becoming colder, his breathing less important, his body yielding to his silent plea of granting him freedom.

If fate had been merciful, Yami would have been carried away in a drifting sleep to the blessed afterlife, without waking again. His eyes shot open when he heard Isis's shrill cry of horror. Yami saw the glittering point of that dagger rising like a star from the murky darkness around him, and watched the descent of that blade hilt deep into his throat.

Soft flesh yielded to harsh steel, bones unable to do anything but break shattered, hands that could not do anything now but clench into helpless fists balled up and curled until his nails made mean, moon-shaped marks across his bleeding palms. Defenseless, quivering, pale flesh flowered forth in brilliant red, as his throat was slashed open from ear to ear.

Yami felt the searing anguish but could no longer cry out, except to hear his own breath hissed out from the gaping wound in his throat.

It was two halves of the same beast that was ripping him asunder, it was dark velvet draping itself over his blackening vision,and settling into his lungs, it was the hitched breath that was forced out from the grinding jaws, now cemented together as his body went into its death throws.

Isis would recall very little but that sickening gurgling, the scarlet burbling up from Yami's snarled lips, as his eyes full of dying light and slow tears gazed up at her imploring her to make it stop. It was too cruel to be possible. The four attendents stood there, transfixed in horror as Yami spent his last moments in blinding, searing anguish, his groping, shackled wrists raised in a futile attempt to reach his bleeding throat. Time itself seemed to halt its vicious plan to watch the agonized convulsion of the dying Pharoah, as he slowly bled and shuddered.

Isis could take no more. She dropped the attempt at the spell when she felt her own throat suddenly flare as if her own flesh had been mutilated. She grabbed the dagger, in trembling fingers, and nearly vomited when she felt the warm blood that coated it. Yami locked eyes with her, gurgled, and lay one twitching hand over his heaving chest, in a silent plea. Isis plunged the dagger hilt deep into his chest, grimacing with the effort as it sliced through his sternum, and then to his beating heart.Yami's whole body arched as if in rebellion, then went lax and still, as he breathed once more, the disgusting hiss gurgling out of his slashed throat.

That dagger slid from her slack fingers, and clattered to the floor with a metalic clang.

Isis was silent in her misery and guilt, and she fully intended to do her penance. She first forced herself to look at Yami's face. His eyes were eerily wide, the frozen panic and the anguish he suffered in his last moments quite evident from the fixed snarl on his face, to the hands that were still balled in desperate fists against the pain.

His cheeks were smeared with blood and tears, and his whole body was still clinched in the attempt to battle for his breath. Isis stood over him, heaving, her fingers gripping the dagger, making no noise.

She heard the gasp from the remaining servant, and her swirled to face him, with a violent jerk. She took in the trailing scarlet that his sleeve was bathed in, and realized with revulsion that this was the one who had committed such a violation to her king.

"You! Servant! Show yourself!" Her voice was reduced to a gutteral rasp, trembling in her fury. She watched as the servant bowed deeply, the hands climbing into the folds of his cowl and then sliding it back to reveal the sharp chin, dark hair, and glittering eyes of ice. "Seth?!"

Seth smirked, coldly as his eyes narrowed to drink in the splayed corpse before him. Isis shivered.

"It was the king's due, Isis. He wished to die, did he not? Was it so wrong to help him in his final wish? Were you not the one who made the killing blow?"

Isis's eyes grew even wider as Seth bent to pick up the dagger, and casually wipe it clean off of Yami's tunic.

"As an act of mercy, Seth. Had you given me time, he would have drifted to sleep, never to wake up again. There would have been no need for this!"

Seth regarded her with a sneer, and raised the dagger to eye it appraisingly, with a pointed glance at her quaking throat.

Isis spluttered in shock, her eyes agog, as she fought the urge to disolve in animalistic howling. "How could you do this to the king? What sort of viciousness could drive you to be so monsterous?"

Her hands instinctively flew to her neck, as she took a few shuddering steps backwards. Seth's eyes followed her, but he made no move towards her.

"You still have your duties to our king, Isis. Our dear, dead king."

Isis's eyes slid away from Yami's body to scathe over Seth with eyes that could burn his flesh to ash. Her own mouth twisted, as she turned towards him.

Seth felt cold fear curl in his gut when he saw the deadly, glittering promise that seemed to reverberate from the Priestess.

"I will do my duty to my Pharoah in honor of his memory and his sacrifice. I will seal his soul away with all the hope and promise that he may be repaid richly for his

kindness to all. And, one day, he will be free."

Her eyes had taken on deeper shadows, and Seth had noted with idle curiosity the sudden darkening of the room, as Isis bent from caressing Yami's bloodied hair to rising again. Seth was alarmed, however to note that the fleeing light was not caused by the sun's natural shift. They were too far underground for that, anyway.

Isis herself seemed to be radiating with the silvery promise of retribution, and holy, rightous revenge, as she gazed him down, her eyes blackened til he was staring into the bottomless abyss itself.

He gulped in genuine fear, and raised the dagger in a shaking hand to defend himself, as Isis was engulfed in the hungry, eager darkness. He could only see her burning eyes, and the glitter of her pearled teeth, as she offered him a bitter, broken smirk.

She eyed the dagger, cooly, arching one eyebrow in bitterless mirth, as she slowly raised arms, and uttered an ugly, gutteral command.

"Raise your weapon against me, if it pleases you. But know that for your cruelty, and your betrayal, I banish you,body and soul, to the Shadows. May your treachery earn you a rich reward in suffering!"

She flung her arms in a wide arc, and did not even recoil at the bleeting scream as Seth was literally mutilated by the bared teeth of the dark creatures

'Be gone,and be damned." The gaping darkness vanished, carrying the wails of Seth with it. Isis set her mouth in a grim line of satisfaction, but she did not savor the revenge. Indeed, it left her shattered and scarred that she could be capable of such a thing, even if it was just and right. It was a duty she ferverently hoped she would not have to do again. She wasn't sure that Yami had ever intended his power to be used as punishment, and she did not bother deluding herself with pretty illusions of banishing Seth to an eternity of suffering being anything less than an act of savage revenge. Rightly deserved, and completely just. But she could still not help but be perversely grateful that Yami had not lived to see the death of his High Priest, or that she had committed something so raw and ugly. It would have broken his heart.

"Indeed, my king." She whispered aloud, as she kneeled beside Yami's corpse.

Flinching at the coldness, and the stiffness that was already cloying to the body, Isis ran torpid fingers over the still face, and drew his eyes shut. Eyes that she herself closed in weary submission to the inevitable, to at least shut away that knawing emptiness that filled those glossy amyhest eyes..

It was not meant to be like this. Yami's broken, bleeding body, lay draped over the stone table as if he had been tossed away like trash, his face still drawn in that agonized mask, the scarlet dribbling down from the gaping wound to his throat, in a steady, slow drip. With a considering frown, she took off her own cowl, and draped it over him, her cloak covering his small body from his chin down. There. At least that violated throat was covered, and some of his dignity preserved.

She swallowed hard, and paused for breath before she proceeded to her next unpleasant task...the sealing of the Shadow Realm. Grimacing, she dangled the dagger with disgust between two fingers, and carefully set it beside the dead Pharoah. She raised beseeching eyes to the heavens beyond the stone ceiling, as she prayed, fervently, for the resolve and the strength to carry out Yami's final request.

Isis groped along her neckline for the heavy golden chain, with its dangling pendant that was warm from resting against her heart. She drew it out, slowly, each link slithering from her fingers, flowing down like water as the Pyramid bit its sharp corners into her flesh. She smiled, bitterly. As if any more blood would be enough to undo this evil. Indeed, if blood really could undo all of this, Yami would be resurrected and taken with great rejoicing to the afterlife, and Egypt would be a paradise to rival the dwelling of the gods. But, to see his still, silent form, and the injustice of it all, shattered any comforting thoughts of certain faith. She would hope and pray that Yami was at peace-wherever he would eventually go. And he would, if she had any say at all.

She held the cold, dead Pyramid beside the equally cold, dead corpse, and took the dagger, ghosting a cut over her own palm, then pressing her bleeding hand against the top point of the Pyramid. "With the power of the Pharoah, I command that the Pyramid be opened, and that the soul of the just may reside in peace there!"

She shuddered when she felt the Pyramid's dark intentions flood over her, and surround her in cloaking radience. The gold seemed to catch fire and glow with eerie vitality, as her blood ran in scarlet trails down each sleek side. She cringed against the unexpected onslaught as the power surged through her frail veins, rippled down her trembling frame, flowed over her failing heart with tortmenting ease. It was relentless, hungry, indifferent consumption. It was the quickening of creation curling into inocence, only to emerge as destruction. It was a power that no mortal with any regard for the sacred should ever attempt to control. Isis realized this with terrifying clarity as she felt her own soul quake within her being.

Bracing herself, she placed a hand on Yami's temples, and uttered the incantation, as she internally recoiled at how icy his flesh had become. A soft light illuminated her fingers against the gaping dark, and she felt the uncertain essense rise up from its battered shell.

"Come forth, my king. Please."

The shadows wafted, and gave way to the pearled light that was slowly climbing its way upward from her templed hands, coiling in soft swirls, before taking a transparent shape. The violet eyes glowing from its depths, the sharp chin,and the tendrils of tri-colored hair, the set jaw, the slender arms characteristically braced against his hips, as Yami gradually faded into view, the light shining through him like jewels.

Isis felt the bitter tears, and the overwhelming physical pain that radiated from his wounded spirit, as well as the demanding plea for an explanation of what had transpired.

Yami looked stricken, staring wide eyed at his own corpse, the hand climbing to cover his mouth, and that horrible mask of wounded betrayal contorting his face until it was ravaged with lines and tears.

He swirled to Isis, the question lingering on his face, as he sent a torrent of anguished confusion and sensation into her mind in one, chaotic flood.

Isis nearly swooned, as she raised a hand, pleading, "Please, my king. Control your emotions! I know that you are full of fear and confusion, but please...try to ask your questions instead of letting raw emotion brutalize me."

Yami shuddered, in helplessness, and she felt both the apologetic wince, and the breaking futility that gripped him. At the moment, Yami was far too stunned, and too shattered to understand or do anything besides radiate that raw, bleeding anguish.

"My king! " Yami startled to hear her shout, and he turned to her, clearly waiting for her question.

Isis smiled softly, and did not move her lips, but Yami's eyes flew open wide when he heard her familar voice.

_My King, You notice that I am communicating with you, by my thoughts. I know you can hear me. I know that you are so afraid, and so alone, and I wish so much to ease that for you.Please, please, try to answer me.._

Yami hesitated,closed his eyes, and she felt the timid attempt before it shuddered and died. Yami was choking back sobs, too overwhelmed and stricken to do more than cry.

It was too much, his brutal murder, his futile sacrifice and seeing the bloody aftermath of his demise splayed out like some sick trophy. He felt somewhat like a tortured cloud, unable to do anything but linger in anguish, since he no longer had flesh, and had no solid form enough to even speak. He raised one shaking hand to his throat, and felt nothing...not even air, just emptiness. But, if he was no longer physical, how could he still cry, and how could he still recall the terror of his final, bloody moments?

Isis cringed when she felt Yami's horror and helplessness.

"My king?" Yami looked at her, flung his arms up in a shrug. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her question.

_My king, you can speak. Please, please, let me help you!"_

He gestured frantically to his throat, pointed to the dagger, and then the bloody corpse.

_What went wrong?_

Yami's eyes widened at the sound of his own voice, allowed himself a brief smirk of triumph. His smile vanished when his eyes drifted towards his remains.

_I know that it was not your intention for me to suffer so much. In fact, it was your stabbing my heart that saved me from that ...lingering in so many tortured moments..._

_moments where I could not breathe, could not speak, or move, or see, but only lay there under their merciless hands and bleed my last. I never knew that the human body could feel so much torture and not just...cease. Do you know why Seth betrayed me, Isis? _

Isis could only shake her head. She winced when she felt Yami's white hot rancor sear its way through her with so much brutal rage. Yami narrowed his eyes, and raised one corner of his mouth into a twisted grin that held nothing but a smug and sated appetite.

_I happened to encounter dear Seth on his way to his just reward, and I know that you would think me ashamed of you for sending him there. I don't know what sort of_

_corruption consumed his soul while he dwelt amoung the living, nor what blindness stayed my hand from doing what you accomplished. _

He gave Isis a tender smile of understanding when he saw her brows knit in confusion.

_My king?! I would hardly consider banishing anyone to an eternal suffering an accomplishment. I committed an evil act!_

Yami shook his head vigorously, as he crossed his arms in deadly earnest.

_Would it ease your guilt to have a change in perspective, my lady? I was the one who died under his hand, and I was the one who could see his true nature--as he was hacking mine away._

Isis shuddered, and paled. _My king, please, spare me of any more knowledge of your demise. I was there,and it was more than enough for me to see it carried out._

Yami gave her an apologetic look, as he regarded her with concern.

_I am sorry, my lady. It was never my intention to add to your suffering. Concerning Seth...I offered him forgiveness, and a means of salvation, if he would have just taken it._

_Even in those final moments, I tried to be merciful. But, he refused, laughing. _

Yami's face contorted in disbelief as he stared down at his hands, now clenching into fists, and digging into his arms.

_Isis, he laughed! Never have I ever sensed so much viciousness. I do not know what sort of evil gripped him, what corrupted him. But, he refused me as he continued downward. He told me his only regret was that I had died so quickly, and that he was no longer going to have the chance to draw out my suffering longer. Please, believe me in all truth when I say this, Isis. Seth was corrupted beyond any chance of change or redemption, and if you had permitted such an evil to live, he would have slain many more. That monster who cut my throat was not the loyal high priest who nobly served Egypt. I don't know what happened, and I don't know why. Mourn Seth as a fallen friend, if you must, but remember that his own choices delivered him to his own destiny-not yours._


	8. Bloodless Snarl

Bloodless Snarl

Yami was still quaking from the shock of it all--gently drifting off to a peaceful, eternal slumber, only to wake and find his best friend happily carving his throat open with that demonic glare..

The few dark hints he had alluded to Isis about his final encounter with Seth was certainly enough to sicken anybody. Living through it-or not- he smirked wryly when he raised a transparent hand, and shoved his arm through a wall without a bruise-was an experience he would happily leave Isis ignorant of. From her bowed head, to the new lines of concern that crowned her mouth and eyes, he wondered if it were too much to burden her with. And she had yet to explain how his soul was sacrificed, if his spirit-or whatever he was-still lingered long enough to converse and actually interact with her.

"My king..." Isis looked pale and wan as moonlight, as she gazed at him in open curiosity. "Will you permit me a question?"

Yami raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side with a smile.

_My lady, you are permitted to ask what you will. And, I am no longer your king. As my last act, I named you ruler of Egypt, did I not?_

Isis gave him a resigned shrug, her weary eyes trailing to the crown. "I hope you chose wisely, my king-forgive my use of the title- it is both out of habbit and honor."

"You mentioned that you..saw Seth? How is that possible? Where did I get such power to send him to the Shadow Realms?"

Yami did not answer imediately. His eyes were turned towards the crown, and he flinched when he found his hand had passed through the golden band. He lingered there, with his head bowed, and his arms crossed over his chest. He gazed at her, his eyes dark with torment, and his mouth set in a grim, sad line. Isis had never seen him look so old and tired before.

_There are some questions that are too painful for me to answer at present. I hope you can forgive me for that. Know that I am sparing you a great deal of pain, and please respect my wishes when I ask you not to mention Seth again._

Yami gave a deep sigh, and shook his head in weary resignation, before he continued. Isis sat back in rapt attention.

_As I mentioned before, you did not banish Seth to an eternity of suffering. It was his choice. You must understand this of the Shadow Realm-it is a punisher, and it is a destroyer, but it will never claim a soul that is not calling for it. It is not evil, except to its own. It is always hungry, and looking to devour those who yield to its corruption._

_You did not recieve such power from your own bidding-it was loaned to you from the Shadows themselves. Always remember this above all else, Isis. The Shadows seek their own, and once you are claimed by them, you will forever bear their taint. But, they can never claim that which is not freely offered._

Yami looked at her, as she mulled over his information with a furrowed brow. "What a painful burden you have carried...Yami."

He gave her his characteristic smirk. _ You have no idea...Isis._

Isis had earnestly tried to resist the temptation to badger him for more answers.Maybe it was her rare thirst for revenge that drove her to ask the next question, or her simply honoring her less than honorable, baser instincts. Yami could sense it gnawing at her, slowly, as well.

"You said that you had encountered Seth?" Yami's body jerked as if he had been slapped, and his eyes darted away, frantically.

"Tell me what happened...please, my king." Yami looked like a trapped animal, as he backed away, shaking his head in desperate negation.

_Isis, do not ask me about this...please. _

Isis would not relent, and Yami was rapidly growing weary of her pleading, prodding, and accusation that he had trusted her with his power, but not with his pain.

Yami had flinched when the words were flung at him, and he stood, motionless, his eyes glazed, and he was held, helplessly imprisoned by the memory of what his last encounter with Seth had been.

But, something hardened in his expression, as he suddenly stiffened. A minute muscle in his cheek twitched in aggitation, as he gestured for Isis to sit.

_Very well, Isis. I will answer your question. _ His voice was flat, and eerily devoid of any emotion, but rich and deep. Isis realized that he was again speaking as the Pharoah-perhaps as a means of distancing himself from what he had endured.

_You will forgive me if I am hesitant to do this. I have experienced many things in these last few hours-most of which have no adequate words to explain. _

_I was laying on that stone slab, when I felt your soothing spell wash over me in one pleasant dream-like wave. I felt my muscles relax, my breathing slow, my heart gently giving way to what I thought was going to be nothing more than drifting to sleep and waking up in the House of Ra. I was eager for it...to be free from all these earthly cares, to see my father again, to know peace that was real, and firmly fixed in eternity. I was actually very close to breathing my last, and considered just stopping, because it seemed so unnecessary at the time. Just one more chain to keep me tethered to this world. Ra knows I have had enough chains in my life, Isis._

Yami swallowed hard, braced himself for the next words..._I saw my father. He was standing, haloed in golden light, with arms open in a welcoming embrace, flanked by my mother. You know that she passed away delivering me, and I was so afraid that she would be angry with me for causing such sorrow...but she looked at me with such wonder and rapture, and said in an awed, sweet voice, how very proud she was of me, and how having such a fine son more than made up for the pain of her early death._

Tears slowly leaked down Yami's cheeks, as he shook his head with a smile. _ She was so bueatiful, Isis. Radiating love, and serinity, and so happy to be with my father. And for me to finally see the beloved face of my mother after so many years...it was happiness, it was fulfillment...it was what I thought was my eternity._

_But then...something went horribly wrong. I thought that I was beyond sensation, because I thought that I had already crossed over, and left my body uselessly on that table. I honestly thought that I was beyond suffering, and that the sacrifice had been successful, even though I noticed I was not sealed away in darkness, but enjoying the bueatiful light._

_I felt agony...horrible, blinding, burning agony, across my throat. I never felt so much excruiating pain in my life. I opened my eyes to find myself lying helplessly, as my throat was cut. I didn't know what had happened, and I tried to scream, or cry out, or move, but I couldn't. I think he cut too deeply for my voice to work any more. I couldn't understand what was happening to me. All I knew was that Seth's face was hovering over me, and I could only watch his knife carve its way into my body over and over again, while I lay bleeding and mutilated. I looked into his eyes, and saw not madness...but evil. He looked enraptured by the power he had over me..to make me suffer fo no other reason than he could. My death was necessary. But the suffering and the torture? I felt like I was bleeding fire, that I had crossed the threshold of pain to the point that I could not suffer any more, but it only increased, and I could do nothing but plead for somebody to make it stop. It was then that I saw you leaning over me, looking so bravely resolute, and understanding, as you raised the blade, and plunged it into my chest. I felt one more blinding flash of pain, and then...nothing. The agony had stopped. Everything had stopped, even time itself seemed to curl up and wait for something...I am not sure how to describe what the dying itself was like, other than it was as different as waking after a sleep, or seeing the night turn to day. Do not linger too long on that curiosity, you will experience it yourself one day..hopefully many years from now and in a much kinder way than I did._

He gave her a wan smile, but then twisted his mouth into a rancor filled snarl.

_It was then I heard the scream-the blood-curdling wail of what sounded like a dying animal. The sort of sound I probably would have made had I the ability. You cannot imagine my terror when I saw Seth emerge from those shadows, with his hands clutched around a gaping wound from his throat. I reached up to touch my own neck, and found to my suprise, there was nothing but a scar...no blood, no tatters of flesh...it was healed! I still don't know how that happened. Seth was bleeding, staggering blindly, and screaming. It was horrible to watch. He staggered, and fell to his knees, and I tried to help him. It was too much for me to bear-watching so much pain and doing nothing.When I touched him, I saw that his gaping wound had vanished as well, and the flesh around his neck was completely unmarred. It was unnerving. He stared at me, in shock, with the blood still covering his hands, and he was so still, as if he could not make any more sense of the situation than I could. Then it happened. I watched as his face twisted into a hideous smile, as he brought his hands up towards my throat..."_

Yami shuddered, as he buried his hands in his face, the shrill whine of the nightmare escaping from his shaking form.

_His eyes were shimmering with fiery hate-sheer, unrestrained, animalistic hate. He...he did not even look human, with his hands still coated in my blood, and his hands..."_

Yami's face contorted, as he raised a groping hand to his own neck.

_His hands...were arched, and hungry, and strong as he latched them firmly onto my throat. I didn't hear him speak, but he cackled, and I could sense his murderous satisfaction at having me at his mercy again. It was the same horrible choking agony all over again. I struggled, but had no way of defending myself...it was horrible._

_But suddenly, I felt a golden light gently trickling down both of us. It was as gentle and soothing as a lover's kiss to me...but to Seth...he writhed and screamed and relinguished his grip on my throat. I watched in horror as he twisted desperately in an attempt to escape the golden light, but there was just too much of it. Each part of his skin that was touched started to catch fire and burn. Soon, he was engulfed in flames, and screaming...and I could do nothing to help him...at that point, though, I wasn't going to anyway. Then, as quickly as the golden light came, Seth disappeared with a final cry of pain, and I heard you calling my name. I tried to concentrate my energy in answering you, to let you know that I was well. When I opened my eyes, I found myself back in my death chamber, staring at my corpse, and watching you weeping over me. _

Yami concluded his story with a slight shrug, meant to convey indifference, but Isis noticed his eyes never left the horrible bloody mortal aftermath that still lay on the table.

He shook his head, in sorrow, and glanced over his shoulder to Isis.

_Will you please cover my face up? I cannot stand seeing myself looking like a gutted animal._

Isis hastily drew the cloak up until nothing showed of Yami but the tips of golden hair. She noticed that Yami had been so slight and small in his life, that his body was engulfed by the heavy material.

Yami gave a dark, bitter chuckle. _Aside from seeing my loved ones again, I hope that Ra blesses me with a few more inches of height. Do you have any idea how hard it is to maintain your dignity as a Pharoah when you are not any taller than your adversaries's children?_

Isis smiled at him. "Is that why everytime you speak, you are so dramatic, my king? So that your adversaries notice how bueatiful your voice is, instead of how far down they have to stoop to hear it?"

Yami looked at her with an irritably raised eyebrow. _ It is a good thing that I named you Pharoah instead of court jester, because you would fail miserably._

Isis answered with a distinctly unlady-like snort. _ And I am sure people find listening to my dignified voice a bit more pleasant than listening to you._


	9. In Sorrow's Keeping

The uncomfortable silence hung heavily between them, and Isis glanced at Yami. The young Pharoah's wry humor had faded away into

a dark contemplation, as he stared unblinkingly at the small form covered by the cloak. Isis had noticed his brilliant violet eyes taking on

the darker shades of uncertainty, as he turned to look at her over his narrow, hunched shoulder. He swallowed hard, and sighed.

"Isis?" Came his soft inquery, as Yami wrenched his eyes away from the corpse to turn all the way towards her.

"Yes, my king? What is it?" Yami gave her an annoyed glance at the use of his former title. " I should call you my queen, my lady. It is not fitting for

the Pharoah to be addressed by her first name as if she were nothing more than a commoner."

Isis lay two slim hands over his shoulders, and peered deeply into his eyes. "My king, as your Pharoah, I order you to call me nothing more than Isis. As for the commoners, may the day never come when I ever think they are unworthy of any less courtesy than I would give the highest-ranked official. I was once one of them, as you know."

Yami dipped his head in acknowledgement, before gesturing towards the dark and bloodied cloak. " This..." he paused, groping for words.

"This unpleasant task is not yet finished, is it? That is to say-"

Isis nodded, in silent compassion, as her hands gently gripped his shoulders in an effort to lend comfort. "You are right. It is not."

Yami bowed his head, in weary resignation, and sighed, brokenly. "What exactly is involved with the sealing of the Shadows? Does that mean I will be mutilated for an eternity such as Seth? Or will I be condemned to drift as a wraith and a shadow for eternity?"

"My king. I do not know which path your soul may take when you depart from this world, or what design Ra in his wisdom may have for you. But I know that such a noble spirit that is willing to sacrifice all will be more than remembered. I do not know what your future holds, but I do know that it has not ended because you have breathed your last. At the end of all of this, you will find peace."

It was iron-clad certainty offered to him with a trembling smile. A cherished bit of reassurance from one of his most trusted friends. Yami did nothing but take her hand, fold it between his two, and grace it with a lordly kiss for such a gracious gift when he needed it the most.

The suspicious flush that now reddened the Priestess's face was only magified by her touched awe. They lingered in that sweet moment together-

Isis so that she could remember the Pharoah as the gallant prince who she considered her friend, and Yami-so he could have that one act of kindness that would radiate like a jewel in his memory in the midst of so much betrayal and anguish. He would draw much comfort from the memory of Isis in the years that would follow.

Yami relunctantly released her hand, with a small bow. " You will always be the most trusted friend I have had, my lady."

Isis negated it with a shake of her head. "You will find, my king, that you will not be alone on your journey. There will be others who will come along when you need them the most. Do not ask me how I know this. I have forseen it."

Yami's brow furrowed at Isis's vague, but hopeful words, but seeing her coy, mysterious smile, and the light touch of her hand on her Milliliumn Necklace.

Haltingly, Yami drew himself to his full height. He seemed almost apologetic or even timid, as he gestured back to his covered corpse.

"The Sealing of the Shadows. Will that involve as much suffering as what happened before? You mentioned before that it would involve yielding up my soul. Does that mean that I am condemning myself?"

Isis did not answer for a long moment, as she glided forward to grip the Pyramid in one hand and the dagger in the other. She whirled around when she heard the panicked whimper, as Yami backed away with a trembling hand rubbing over his heaving throat.

"Oh! My king, please, forgive me. Yami? Are you unwell?" The utter stupidity of her question was emphasized as Yami back peddled until his back smacked hard against the wall. His eyes darted frantically behind him, his fingers splayed and seeking escape from the horrible sensations that now barraged his mind in one blind, vicious wave. His eyes never wavered in their terror-glazed focus on that dagger that was less than three feet from his quaking throat.

Yami could not answer, could not feel, could not reply, or even muster enough of his shattered control to allow Isis's gentle probe of his mind.

He only convulsed involuntarily when he felt the intrusion, the world fading to darkness, that same horrible sensation of his flesh giving away to the blade. Somewhere in that rising terror, he thought he heard Seth's satisfied cackle.

Yami hung, suspended in that horrible memory, his hands rising to claw at his neck until fresh blood was hacked to the surface by his bared nails.

Isis backed away in horror, as she shrieked his name. Yami suddenly stiffened, as if he had been stabbed, as he buried his head in the shelter of his crossed arms and slid downward into a shivering ball of frenzied panic.

Isis hastily put her damp palms to the sides of the Pyramid, her eyes darting frantically to Yami, as she muttered an incantation under her breath.

The Pyramid glowed blinding, seeking gold, as its radiance spewed out from its sides and engulfed Yami. Yami's body quivered in rebellion against the sensation of his clenched, knotted muscles ready to explode into movement going limp as water and the alien, but not unwelcome feeling of his terror forcibly yielding to bizzarre, forcibly drugged peace. Isis muttered one more relaxation spell, and Yami slumped bonelessly, but his eyes were wide with terror at the sudden paralysis.

"Yami." Isis watched as his eyes jerked to meet hers, with a horrible questioning. "Yami, please. Surrender to the peace. It will not harm you. I will not harm you."

Yami's face contorted, pleading. He could no longer speak, or even think co-herent thoughts above the panic enough to answer her. He felt the delicate probing of Isis into his mind, and he flinched, but did not resist. Isis winced with sympathy when she felt Yami's fluttering emotions swirling deeper and deeper into a chaotic spiral that threatened to consume him. And she blanched at her unwitting stupidity of handling that dagger in front of him. With all the tension and agonized strain he had-being tortured to death, suddenly coming back, and reliving that horrible moment again...it was easy to see how emotionally wrecked he was, and how even the slightest hint of there being a repeat could send him into that animalistic spasm. Even now, she could feel Yami writhing helplessly against her attempt to relax him. He was obviously too hysterical to differentiate between the soothing of a friend, and the stabbing of an enemy. Isis shook her head with tears. Both had been forced upon him with

equal brutality, without his consent. And, now, unable to retreat, defend himself, or even cry out, Yami could only endure each unleashed cruelty until it chose to relinguish its vicious grasp. No wonder she had seen him weep so much in these past few tortured days.

"Yami. Please, focus on my voice, and calm yourself. What you are experiencing now is a very painful battle..between my relaxation spell, and your blind refusal to yield your pain to me. Please, let me help you!"

Yami could only screw his eyes shut even tighter, and struggle uselessly at the attempt to form words from the whirlwind of churning emotion that was steadily drawing him downward. Unrestrained terror, confusion, and raw, bleeding hurt overshadowing everything else. Isis hastily drew back from any more probing of his mental shields. Yami was too much of a chaotic storm at the moment for him to accept that sort of help from her right then. The moment she withdrew her power, Yami visibly eased, even to the point of exhaling that some of that horrific assalt had slacked off enough for him to think.

Yami closed his eyes, and Isis shuddered when she felt the bitter torrent flooding into her mind in reply.

"Why are you doing this to me?! Am I such a plaything to you that you have the right to decide what to do with my pain?"

She gaped. "My king? I am trying to help you. You have been through a horrible, unjust murder. Please, please, allow me to help you!"

Yami opened his eyes, and she blanched to see the futile rage that was burning in his eyes, contrasted by the surrendering slump that his body had already adopted, despite his best attempt to fight it.

"Allow you to help me? Isis, you have taken control of me and robbed me of any consent of what may be done to me! Any means I had of controlling my fate-even if it is reduced to how to deal with the pain-has been stripped from me, by your own misguided intentions! Please-"

He swallowed back the groan of pain, as his taxed muscles both sagged and ached from the strain.

"Either take my awareness and memories of this torture away, or leave me be to decide how to bear it. Don't attempt to remove part of it, and leave me completely at your mercy again. Don't force upon me the cruelty of this lingering between the paralysis and the dark. It was with the best of intentions you drove the dagger through my heart, and it was with the worst that Seth cut my throat, but both resulted in my suffering more. As I am, still!"

Yami forced himself to drag his eyelids open, the heavy relaxation spell hanging over him with a vague haze that resembled a warm, spiked blanket. It was disorienting, and it made him feel dizzy and ill. His thoughts, like his words, felt as if they had turned to boulders coated in velvet-soft to brush against, but so hard for him to push out. And, with a fuzzy jolt of realization, Yami saw with torpid clarity that his blind, panicking breakdown had far less to do with being slaughtered, but everything to do with his inability to protect himself, and know when to fend off the next wound. No wonder he felt so disconnected, and shattered. As of late, he had no time to put the gaping shards of his mind back together into some sort of semblance of function. It was hard to heal the wounds when you had no certainty that you would have the means of stopping the hurt. His rather pathetic, but completely honest pleading with Isis had spewed forth from that anguish. Yami, if he could, would have curled into a silent cacoon of depression, or indifference, or distance...anything that would distance him from the desperate sensation that he was always falling into darkness, and never having the ability to even stumble out of its way. No, his only option was this horrible waiting.

Isis regarded him with indifferent, regal silence, one eye brow arched in thought, a strange, probing glitter of calculation, and a cruel, curious turn bending her lips into something ugly. Yami's breath quickened in fear. Why, oh why had he been so stupid as to admit his gaping weakness to her? As he kept pointing out to her, he was completely at her mercy. That cloying, floating sensation hadn't eased, either.

Perhaps it was just another trick of his mental functioning-Ra knew his sanity was rapidly erroding over the dizzying array of being both mortal, imortal, raised from the dead without a body, and now, some sort of spectre...Yami's head throbbed from trying to sort it out. Yami inhaled, and attempted to look indifferently bored as Isis continued to mull over whatever sadism he was to be subjected to again.

He had nearly given to the fatigue and the siren's call of slumber, and rest, however artificially induced it may have been. Isis watched the poor Pharoah battle valiently with the overwhelming urge to close his eyes, eased on by her silent incantation. Mayhaps it was his own wounded sense of justice, or just his pride, but Yami would not rest, but linger in that torturing limbo. Isis supposed, if she really wanted to, she could simply keep on probing Yami's mind, gradually erroding away what little protection he had left, and just overwhelm him into obedience. She shuddered at the thought. To attack Yami when he was already saddled with so much pain would have been an act committed by Seth. But, even her gentlest of sleeping spells-which she intended to give Yami a much needed rest before she continued the sealing-only seemed to confirm Yami's new, harsh belief that she was intentionally hurting him.

With a sigh, she tried one more time to lull him to sleep by fusing his worried thoughts into a gentle wave of peace. Yami's face crumbled in pain, and she nearly leapt into the air when he barked out the harsh command , "STOP IT!" He was quivering again, and his eyes were burning in their

accusing, hard stare.

She nearly fell when she felt the spell being slammed into one of his barriers, and hurled back at her with brutal intention. She watched Yami as his eyes slowly lost their focus, darkening into even deeper shades of violet, as he bared his teeth like a cornered animal, and gave a scathing glance at his paralyzed body.

Isis watched in disbelief as Yami's forehead suddenly glowed with the rainbowed eye of Horus, and she felt the restraints she had placed over him snap and give way. Yami slowly climbed to his feet, with a sneer, as he tilted his head to the side, in silent, eerie contemplation.

Isis felt the cold chill of fear trickle down her spine as she saw the glittering calculation in his eyes, and that broken smirk grace his lips.

It was the same look that Seth had as he snatched the dagger from her.

"Maybe, I should grant you the same mercy I was shown, my lady." Isis watched Yami in growing fear as he slid casually over to her, the dark shadows clinging to him in eerie trails, his feet gliding over the stones with feline grace. Yami had not grown any taller, or manifested any physical change, but the cloying menace seemed to radiate from him as he met her eyes and placed two clenched hands on her shoulders, and held her in place.

Isis tried not to wince from the pain, but whatever had taken him over gave him unnatural strength. His fingers were digging into her flesh, hard, and she felt the bones in her shoulders shuddering, and ready to give way under his unyielding grip. Yami's eyes were yawning, hungry pits of the abyss, and his whole body seemed to pulse with his barely restrained rage. His hands slowly ghosted their way from her quaking shoulders to her neck and she exhaled sharply when she felt his fingers wrap firmly around her throat and begin to squeeze, harder, and harder as that feral grin about his lips grew wider in satisfaction. Isis squirmed under the strangling pressure, her hands flew up to defend her tender neck, battering at his arms. It was a useless show of force.

"My king! Stop this, you are hurting me!" Yami tilted his head sideways, gave her a bared snarl, and only tightened his grip.

Isis closed her eyes, grimaced, and whispered her final incantation. With a growl of her own, she gripped Yami's wrist firmly, and braced herself.

Coiling up from her arm, she summoned the shadows to their full strength. With a prayer for forgiveness, she unleashed the full, unrestrained force of her attack onto Yami.

Yami screamed in pain,as the seering wave of icy fire suddenly ripped its way through his body. It hurt almost as much as being stabbed. Yami released her throat as he sank to the ground, without a sound. Isis, sensing his vulnerabilty, hastily unleashed another slumber spell.

Yami's body nearly snapped in half from the jolt, and she heard the reverberating hiss of power as it flaired harmlessly over his still arched back.

Isis hastily ran to his side, and to her horror, his eyes were empty, and eerily focused on the ceiling. There was no sign that he was alive. Isis used his incapitation to her advantage as she gripped the Puzzle, in shaking hands. She hastily sliced her palm open with one of its points, then smeared the blood on the side of the Pyramid.

Indeed, the stupor that gripped Yami seemed to intensify, as Yami helplessly drifted into the dark. He made a small noise of protest, but Isis allowed herself a small smirk of satisfaction as Yami finally surrendered. His eyelids drooped, and his tense, coiled body finally went limp. Isis casually released her grip on the Puzzle's sharp point, hissing a bit in acknowledgement of the open cut that dribbled scarlet down the golden side, with a sad smile as she stared down at Yami's corpse, and his paralyzed spirit laying beside it.

Choices.

How had it come to this? Isis wearily rubbed her throbbing temples, in some attempt to sort out exactly how in the heck a simple, noble sacrifice had resulted in the death of one of the high priests, and rendered Yami this broken, evil creature that she could only seem to shackle or wound into submission to protect herself. She had looked into his eyes, and saw the blazing, murderous intention shimmering from their violet depths. If she hadn't uttered that spell, she knew without any charitible doubt, that Yami would have cheerfully strangled her. Yami still lay crumpled and splayed where he had lost his battle to her spell. She did a quick assessment of his mind, and recoiled at the churning, dark insanity that was steadily groping its way over that kind light that she had seen in him before this whole debacle started.

Was Yami beyond redemption now? Would it have been a kinder act to let Seth complete his depraved slashing? At least then, Yami would be

at peace in the afterlife, and not lingering in this torment, his body useless, his mind shattered, and his soul steadily wilting under the evil inflicted upon it.

Indeed, it was a twisted act of mercy on her part when she attempted to lull him to sleep, and only succeeded in awakening this demonic beast where her friend was, once. She was startled to see Yami groan, and his eyes languidly open. From the dull light of his heavily lidded eyes, and the sluggish movement, she could tell that he was no threat.

"My king?" she ventured softly as Yami stared up at her through the confused haze of the repeated sleeping incantation.

His brow furrowed, and he attempted to croak out, "What...di-.. do to me?" His speech was slurred, and barely understandable, and Isis

nearly wept when she saw the former king completely unaware of the drool that was collecting at the corner of his mouth.

"Yami, I-please, please forgive me for this."

Yami's brow only crinkled more in confusion, as he made another attempt at talking. "Why...am I...like dish? What id you do?"

His last words were grunted out as he stared up at her from the floor.

Isis stooped beside him, her trembling hands climbing to the wrinkled collar of her gown, ready to rip away the seam and show him the bruises he gave her. But, Isis hesitated, her hand lingering, clutching uneasily in indecision. It would have been an act of revenge. And, from the wrecked, drooling, helpless creature before her, she wasn't sure that Yami was even capable of understanding all the horrible whys and reasons he had been reduced to...this.

She looked down at Yami, who was still glaring up at her petulantly, expecting an answer. She was suprised he didn't have his lower lip out in a childish pout.

"Yami?"

"Yesh? I...I'm still wait...I..." He gave a growl of frustation. "Ansher!"

"You want an...answer?" She ventured, and it was confirmed as correct by Yami's impatient scowl deepening, and a vigourous nod of his head.

"Yami? May I try something?" Yami raised his eyebrows suspiciously, and narrowed his eyes.

"Would it be easier for you to talk using your thoughts and not your words? I know that you have been put through several sleep incanatations, and I don't think your body can handle much speech at the moment."

Yami looked stricken,and she could already see the panic rising in his trembling, and that glazed look returning to his eyes.

"YAMI"

He shuddered, and whimpered in that all familiar attempt to shield himself. The broken thoughts and fragmented speech were bleeding through her mind, as he struggled with the rudimentary vocabulary his wounded mind was left to work with. Isis felt the effort it took for him to drag up one word.

'Hurts."

It was a childish honesty, gripped with anguish. From the humiliated heat rising to his cheeks, Isis could tell that Yami was suddenly, brutally aware of his newest, cruelest shackles.

He looked up at her, and shook his head, with a trembling hand tapping his temple, as he started to cry.

"CAN'T!" It was a choked sob of realization, and Isis could only watch helplessly as Yami started howling. Within two steps, she had him wrapped in her shaking arms, cradling him like a child as he could only lean into her embrace and let her soothe him in the best way she could. She held onto him like that for what may have been minutes, or hours, until he pulled away, exhausted, pale, and still shaking with the terrible knowledge of his damaged mind.

Isis was suprised to see him rise to his feet, however shakingly, and stare down at her, the glittering awareness flitting across his eyes making his condition all the more cruel.

"Yami? What do you want, my king?" Yami opened his mouth to speak, but shook his head in hopelessness. He no longer had the words to make himself understood. Pleadingly, he extended his hands to her, and jerked his head over his shoulder. Isis allowed herself to be pulled to her feet, and watched Yami, curiously, as he led her over to the table, the Pyramid and the dagger still sitting on the sheets that covered his body as if it were an altar. He gave her a pointed glare, of eerie resolve as he gripped her wrist, and dragged her forward. She staggered on, confused.

Despite his small stature, the Pharoah was still quite strong. Yami drew up sharply, and jabbed a finger at both the Pyramid, and the dagger, his finger trailing off then poking himself hard on the chest.

With barely contained fury, Yami gripped her arms in a bruising vise as he whirled her around to face him. She flinched at the intensinty of his growled command.

"End this." She stood, paralyzed by both his hands on her, and the weight of his steady, uncompromising stare. It was the last remnent of strength Yami had-the regal, violet eyes, but it was not enough.

"My king?" She whispered, stupidly, as Yami snarled at her, and dropped one of her hands, and recoiled when she felt the sensation of a brutally cold blade being pressed into her hand. Yami twisted her fingers into a punishing fist around the handle of the dagger, and with the other hand, had rammed the Puzzle into her quaking palms. Isis let him manuver her until she was propped up by the wall. Yami's scowl deepened when he saw her quaking slide downward, and she felt herself being braced by both of his hands, as he held her up, taking advantage to look into her eyes.

"Please." It was one word, heaved out from the last fragments of his thoughts, the final attempt to beg for mercy from a brutalized body that had recieved none, despite his innocence, or his pleas. She stared down at Yami, and saw the storms of torment and unspeakable horror as they raged across his eyes. She could see the quivering frame, wracked by helpless fury, and quaking with every tortured emotion he could no longer control, let alone defend himself against. The burden of decay as he felt his mind decsentigrate, the misery, the suffering. The evil that had stolen her noble king and left this broken wreck behind that was reduced to grunting words at her and shoving a dagger in her hand to end it all.

"No, my king." Yami's mouth fell open, and the pleading tears came to his eyes as he hastily snatched the dagger and held it out to her.

"No, Yami. I will not do this. I will do something more merciful than kill you."

Yami looked up at her, considering. She nearly smiled to see the shadow of the king return, if only for a moment.

"I will give you a choice, my king. It is your soul, and you have the right to decide what happens to it. I promise, by Ra himself, I will not so much as touch you without your permission."

Yami gave her a scathing, bitter stare, as he shook his head, slowly. He raised a quaking finger to his temple, tapped it for emphasis, as he

waved his hands in negation.

"You misunderstand me, my king." Yami gave her such a look of wounded suprise and indignant glare that she backed away, hastily.

Isis took a deep, cleansing breath, tried to gather the shaking remains of her self-control, and pleaded with the heavens for patience. She eyed the Pharoah, who stood resolutely with his arms crossed, and his lips set in a firm, uncompromising line.

"Yami. Will you hear me out? Or will your own stubborn pride keep you shackled here in this torment?"

Yami begrugdingly raised an eyebrow, and then raised his chin and hand in a regal gesture.

"Does this mean that I may continue, my king?" Isis fought to keep the wry amusement out of her voice. Yami grunted permission.

"I thank you, my king, for your patience in granting an audience with me." Isis mockingly swept into a grand curtsy, before Yami, who could only snort his offense.

"Yami, you really must stop the grunting and the snorts. It is not becoming for a son of Egypt to sound like a well-fed boar. Especially one as small as you."

Yami jerked towards her, the old fire of poked pride rising to his eyes as he straddled hands on his hips, mouth flying open to give a scathing, regal retort.

Isis felt her burbling laughter die down to sympathy as Yami struggled to fling out the sarcastic reply, but could only put a shaking hand over his mouth in wounded, naked shock. He could not answer! He shook his head in fearful denial, opened his mouth to scream, and again, nothing. He stared at her, wide-eyed, the new awareness of his damage crashing down on him in all its brutality. If anything, that reminder seemed to break him even more. Mutely, Yami wilted back to his former slumping posture, his head lowering like a defeated army's banner.

With a sigh, Isis knelt beside him, her eyes glittering at his throat. Yami imediately started panting, scuttling backwards to escape, found his back grinding into the wall.

"Le me help you, Yami." She was rewarded with an ill-aimed sandle grazing her knee. Isis's eyes shot upward, her lip arching in irritation, as Yami bowed up further against the wall as he continued his pathetic scuttle away from her.

Isis looked eerily apologetic as she raised a hand high, and soundly slapped the Pharoah across his cheek. The sting across his flesh,and the shock that she dare strike him-in such a degrading way-shocked Yami out of his panic attack. He cocked his head to the side, and stared up at her, in awe, and growing irritation. He brought a hand to his throbbing cheek, and then looked up at her, looking quite furious.

Isis had her hands spread on her hips, and looked every bit like an irritated mother scolding a misbehaving child. Yami was completely flumoxed by this change, and stared up at her, in stunned silence. Isis towered over him, and glowered down at him, with a shake of her head.

"Now that I have your attention, my king, I suggest you listen to me. I understand that you are afraid, and I made this situation much worse by attempting my sleeping spells. I know that you have been through more in these past few days than you have had to endure in your past life time, and I am sorry for that, and for you. But this grip of helpless fear and pain on you is only keeping you shackled to this torture. I have done all that I can to alliviate that, and you considered each attempt to be nothing more than a means to control you. That makes my magic essentually worthless. Even now, the reason you cannot speak is because you yourself believe that you are stripped defenseless with no choices left, and that you are at the mercy of somebody you consider to be a traitor. I will restore your voice, if you let me. I will rid you of the remnants of the sleeping spell, as you wish. And I will explain all that I can about the sealing of your soul. But, I cannot do anything more than what you are willing to permit, and I am exhausted in my attempts to aid you."

Before Yami could even think, Isis reached for his neck, lay a cool hand across his tremoring throat. Yami felt a comfortable warmth for a brief moment, and then she wisely withdrew before he could strike her.

He glared at her, petulantly,as he rubbed an exploring hand over his throat. The scars were still there, but not as prominant.


	10. That Which Radiates

That Which Radiates-

The playful banter had died between them. There was no more distraction, no more merciful interludes to delay what faced him next. Time had tarried long enough in this underground room, and Yami felt a flush of regret and guilt when he saw the trauma that his repeated breakdowns had caused. Seth had died. Isis was nearly slain. Yami himself had been tortured, mutilated, and murdered, only to be reduced to flitting around as a very confused, fragment of his soul, neither belonging to the dead, nor the living, barely centered on any locus of control. Finding his own misery and fears to be warring factions in his rapidly crumbling hold on reality.

Isis seemed to be so ill at ease, and afraid of inflicting more damage to him. Not that he could blame her at all. His whimpering panic attacks had had alarmed her to the point that she would only approach him like he was a wounded animal, and then, only with extreme relunctance. His actions over the last few hours-alternating between a vengeful torturer to a drooling imbicle left him broken, wide open for any wounds. Indeed, he had found himself reduced to a voliltal, anguished,trembling wreck that could only sob in answer, when he was once so certain, and strong.His body lay cold and covered by the cloak, a grim reminder of his severed mortality. He could not help but envy that. At least his body had escaped this brutal labyrith of guilt, and pain.

Yami could only shake his head, and trust Ra, in his wisdom, to sort all of this quagmire out, and make it right. It was beyond his ability to restore any of this. He only hoped that Ra would have some mercy, and let his sacrifice negate all of the horror he had so unwittingly inflicted.

"Isis? Shall we finish?" He gave her a wan, weary smile that was not from mirth.

Isis's trembling returned, and she turned away, to bury her hands in her face.

Isis had to fight back the familiar sob, before she answered:

"I wish with all my heart it was not this way, Yami."

His eyes were filled with sorrow, as he reached forward to cup her cheek, a thumb gracing her jaw to wipe away the tear.

She sensed, rather than felt, his arms draping over hers, in that old, comfortable gesture of friendship, as he drew her closer, and with a

groan, buried his face into the mass of black hair. She felt his arms across her back tighten into one shaking, desperate embrace, as he bowed his head beneith her chin. It was the only way he knew to tell her what words would not say. Then, he stepped away.

For the second time, Yami was preparing himself to die. He held no lofty illusions of grand speeches, or a profound exhaltation given with his last breath before he dramatically lay down to die with a flourish. There was no golden sarcophocous to bear his earthly remains to the afterlife, there was no heralding of servants to prepare his Ka, or even a beloved family member to see that his remains were properly preserved for eternity.

He gazed down at the shattered body he had, delicately stripping the cloak away from his former face. He grimaced again when he saw the eyes wide, and rolled back, glossy, and empty, but still frozen in their sick, useless battle to find anything to stare at besides that dagger as it sliced his throat. Blood and saliva still glittered from his bared teeth, scarlet flecks decorating his face from his eyebrows that were raised and flexed in pain, to the huge, gaping, sticky hole that was where his throat used to be. His lips were flared, his teeth fully exposed from a mouth that was open in its attempt to scream. Yami shuddered to see the pearled glint of his neckbone through the wound, sickened that Seth had slashed him that deep. The rest of his body was still locked in that final spasm, the fists clenched, his legs arched, his back twisted, and the second wound to his heart coloring the rest of his once pristine tunic a dull, murky rust. He had no idea that a body could bleed so much.

It was not him, it was only the usesless carcass left behind, but still...Yami would later recall a well-earned sense of pride that he did not further desecrate his remains by vomiting on them. He was not sure if it was the grace of Ra, or that it had been cruelly ripped away, but he was

beyond tears, beyond cowering, beyond shock.. And it was liberating, for however long this brief respite from the trauma would last.

Yami assumed he would have a long time to muse over the eternal things, or his questions would be answered in a short while, either way. His

attention was focused on the more practical matters at hand, like what would be done with his corpse, and where he was supposed to lie down for the "sealing" as he called it, for want of a better word. It sounded so much kinder than "damnation," or "futile death forever." He sighed, wearily, as

he sent a fervernt prayer for mercy, that whatever world he would be entering would be a bit kinder than the one he was currently residing in.

It was on trembling limbs--wobbling and uncertain as a newborn fawn's- that he allowed himself to be laid down, swathed in his familiar cloak, and spared from the icy feel of that cold table on his back. If he were forced to lay down in his own blood again, in shackles, he would have gone mad. Isis moved, slowly, deliberately, patiently explaining what she was doing as if he were a child. Yami was grateful for that, though. He had been through more than enough unexpected suprises, and he felt that even the touch of a feather could send him into hysterics. He drew his bare arms over his chest, with a shiver. Spirit though he may be, he still felt as if he had the same vulnerable flesh-flesh that could be cut open on a whim, and so subject to weakness, and pain...He didn't think he would miss that much, either.

Isis kindly pillowed his head with the excess material of his cloak, as she glided over to his side, with the Pyramid dangling between two of her fingers. Yami was cheered to see that the horrible dagger-and any other sharp, cutting implement-was notably abscent. Even when that agony had

passed, he could not control his body's natural instinct to shiver. Had Yami asked her, she would have found some sort of covering for him. The thin tunic was familiar, and comfortable, still. It was his last piece of his former life, and he was grateful that it was unmarred in his spirit form.

Yami knew that was futile, though. It was not the actual cold that brought the prickles to his flesh--it was still the same old fear of being defenseless.

After all that he had been through, and withstood, and endured, he was certain that it was a valid emotion, but one that Isis could do nothing to ease. He had suffered at her hands, too, regardless of how he forgave her for it. He had been stripped of his inocence, and it had left its own scars. The instictive flinch whenever an alien hand brushed his shoulder. The whimper of fear that he could not choke down, regardless of how prepared he was, or how expected the course of action to be. The involuntary shudder of his entire frame when he was embraced, by friend, or foe, or loved one. He knew it would be all he could do in the future to smother the blind instinct to claw his way out of any enclosing touch that reminded him of being tortured. That comfort, however inocently offered out of love, or regard was irrevocably tainted by those moments when he felt his mind eroding and his body failing at the hands of the two people he once trusted the most.

It was the loss of everything he knew and loved, uncertainly offered up with a trembling hope that it might spare the Egyptian inocents who would not even know his name the present anguish he was suffering from now. His eyes fell on the Pyramid, and it glowed through his vapid thoughts like a beacon. Yami had only held it a few times, but recoiled at how warm and alive it felt. It was eerie, it was wrong, it was to be his dwelling, shortly. Again, another decision shackling him to the path he so desperately feared...all because of his bedamned sense of morality, and his rather rash decision to sacrifice himself.

Maybe it was the fact that he had tied himself into enough mental knots trying to figure the whole thing out, or the sad admission that there was nothing left for him to do after that decision, except deal with its final outworkings.

And, somewhere in the depths of all the pain,and the uncertain anguish, by an act of his own broken will, or Ra's grace, Yami found himself ready to accept that.

He felt a shadow fall over him, and looked up to see Isis's careworn, but serene face gazing down at him with her azure eyes now taking on the depths of heaven's warmth. She was haloed in the soft orb of healing sleep she was weaving, the glittering wafting between extended hands as if she were holding the stars themselves. The walls around him-bare bricks that were damp and cold-now took on the warm, living light until they shimmered as if they were cast of jewels. They were achingly bueatiful. The dark ceiling above him disolved into a gossemer veil of pearled light, beacons, he hoped, to guide him on his path.

Isis did not speak as he nodded permission, and raised his chin high, as he gently set aside the cloak. With a small gulp of his last fear, Yami

lay himself down again, and did not flinch when he felt the slender hands of grace and fire ghost over his temples, sending trails of light in a swath over his bare flesh. It did not burn, it did not hurt. It only gentled away the last of the pain, made the torture a brief memory, made his drawn mouth relax to a smile.

It was the eerie, reverent hush that filled the room with the waiting, expectant welcome. It was his limbs going limp, and willingly yielding to the stillness, not battling against the loss of control and that terrible sensation of his muscles, sinews, bones, all that was solid, and him sliding like water over stone, into paralyzed hysteria. It was the serene acceptance that his flesh and bones were no longer needed,and he was free to cast aside the mortal shackles for something more worthy of eternity...when he got there, at last.

The Pyramid had taken on the same golden hue, tendrils of falling light showering Yami with the radiance, inviting his weary spirit to its temporary sanctuary. Yami allowed his spirit to rise, timidly at first, but then soaring like a phoenix in the dizzying sensation of such freedom, only to hesitate, as his form-now faintly shimmering as if he were cast in starlight-gazed back at Isis. He dipped downward, gracefully, and Isis felt his arms-light as air and healed of the scars, gather her in a farewell gesture of infinite gratitude. She watched as his fingers lighted across his throat, and proudly unfurled to show that the gaping scar from his old wound was gone, and the flesh had been fully restored. Isis was weeping, the tears making their shining paths down her cheeks as she gave Yami the most luminous smile she could muster, before she gave a joyous laugh to see him unbroken, and restored. The Pyradmid shimmered in silent welcome. Yami gave Isis one last look, and she saw the violet eyes shimmering with tears of joy, instead of anguish, before he waved, and yielded the last of his spirit to the Pyramid in one golden arch and a flash. It was so sudden, she stared uncomprehendingly at the thing for long moments, as the room faded, and the only gold warmth was the Pyramid itself. The last thing she remembered was Yami's last use of the mind probe, as she was engulfed with the overflowing peace.

Yami had told her it felt like he was going home.


	11. The Chains Of His Own Choosing

The Chains of His Own Choosing-

Maybe it was the alien shimmer of the blinding golden haloing his vision, all around him, or the strange sensation of cold bricks against his back. The first stirrings of awareness were quite subtle, and easily ignored. He felt so tired, so comfortable, so...undisturbed, by the passage of time, and he had no need, or interest in the history that was flowing, or the world that was changing outside his golden cocoon. The velvet dark, and the heavy peace held him willingly captive. Obligation and leadership were twin shackles of the prison he would never willingly enter again. He felt the Pyramid's prodding, on occasion, but he could simply roll over and resume his slumber. There was no need for him do anything else. Blissful awareness, full, and free of any sort of pain, predictable and secure was much more desireable than anything else. To stay forever in the womb, a child inocent of all the cruelty that lay outside, a catapillar that never flew, or a seed that never became more than a dead thing in the ground-

Yami was quite content to willingly stay in his comfortable prison. At least these were chains he chose. The Puzzle had drank in his memories, of course. It considered his essense- the history, and the sadness, and the volital emotions that lay below Yami's awareness-to be the elixir of life.

So, while the former Pharoah felt completely justified to ignore the growing danger-of the Puzzle taking him over, of losing his defenses to his own willful ignorance, or his twisted justification- the Puzzle grew. It was insidious, and subtle. Maybe it would gently lap away the face of an aquaintance when the Pharoah dreamed of his childhood, or maybe drink away the color of a particularly brilliant sunset that shimmered in Yami's long distant past. Or, it ate away at a painful memory that Yami would have no interest in keeping anyway, due to his terror of reliving it. It was a good arrangement, on a superficial level. Yami was allowed to slumber to his heart's content, deluding himself that he had suffered enough and was perfectly entitled to do nothing more than whatever he pleased--which was nothing. And the Puzzle was allowed to gorge itself with the Pharoah's essense, until it grew from sated, to bloated, to dizzyingly famished with greed and want for more. It was tragic, in an ironic way. Yami had not lived long enough for the Puzzle to truly have that much to play with. But, in the weaving of the years, and the flow of time, it mattered little.

The flow of time itself ceased inside the Puzzle, and Yami, no longer being of flesh, did not age, but rather, reverted, to a pompous, egotistical child. The Puzzle coddled its pet's whims, perfectly.

If Yami craved a great feast, the Puzzle was happy to conjur the illusion of a dazzling buffet of the finest food, complete with the images of taste, smell, texture. It might have been an eerie, or at least disjointing sight, to see a violet-eyed man presiding over an empty court of shadows, with empty hands bringing nothing to his mouth, as

he babbled merrily to nobody about topics that nobody was there to hear. It might have been written off as Yami being tragically deranged, but there was nobody but the Puzzle to tell him otherwise. Indeed, the Puzzle only indulged, and gave, and caressed Yami's ego and delusions. It was much easier to keep a happy captive content and ignorant of his own true condition than it would be to harness a broken soul full of rage.

So, even if Yami was aware of the Puzzle's slow consumption of him over the eons, there was nothing left for him to cling to but what remants of his fragmented past the Puzzle allowed him to view. The Pharoah's memories were little more than toys to the Puzzle. Casual things, that it would pick up on a whim, and set it down where it wished. The destruction of the life that Yami lived once was hardly a consequence. Indeed, the Pharoah seemed to be so taken by his plush, comfortable existance, there was no reason to disturb him with nasty reality. There were a few things that the Puzzle could not consume. Things that were rooted so deeply in Yami's core, that to extract them would be impossible. These were the much dreaded anchors that tethered Yami's soul to the knowledge of his existance. And that which the Puzzle could not destroy, it could certainly pervert and distort. The Puzzle could not destroy the image of Yami's father, or even attempt to desecrate the memory of Isis-at first.

The Puzzle's shifting through the discarded pieces of Yami's past brought up a great deal to work with.

There was nothing to point out the decadent sloth or the decay that Yami was happily shackling himself to. And the Puzzle would have been quite content to keep its pet ignorant and captive forever.

-

Egypt----

It was the first act of the new Pharoah Isis to give Yami the full pomp and splendor of a memorial that she could concieve of. She ordered his memory cherished, his name lauded, his body to undergo the full purification and rituals to cleanse it of the evil that was inflicted upon it. It was swathed in soft linen after the mummification was complete, and encased in a gold coffin, buried in the deepest tunnel under the pyramids, and guarded at all times by armed soldiers. It was considered by some to be a fanatical devotion to a dead friend, or an endearing quirk of loyalty by a few. Yami was laid to rest beside the body of his long missing mother and father. Under her watchful eye, the tomb was sealed shut, with the fervent hope that Yami was finally at peace. Seth's remains were hastily burned, and for added spite, she ordered the ashes to be scattered into the muck of a pig pen. She could not help but sneer as she watched the flames rising.

The golden pyramid itself was kept in a secluded corner of Isis's royal chamber. It was shelved in a magnificant box, enfused with magical protection, and hidden in a small, hollowed out shelf that she herself concieved, and covered with bricks and canopy, and so cleverly disguised as part of the wall, that nobody, except those who already knew it was there, would disturb it. Isis would not suffer for Yami to be violated again.

Her next task was far more daunting--reviving the broken, bleeding country that had been so fractured in the onslaught of the Shadows. Yami's sacrifice had indeed sealed them all away. They had vanished in a moment, and left no trace of their evil except the dying and injured, and the hopeless. The infrastructure of the country was wrecked,the people reeling first from the horrors they had endured, and then the complete confusion that followed once it was removed. Crops were burned, the army mostly useless, and the number of the poor and homeless soared.

Isis had immediately ordered that the riches in the royal treasury be set to good use to buy grain from the neighboring countries, and dispatched sentries to each major city to take an inventory of how severe the damage to her country was. She upset the royals by ordering a redistribution of her own wealth to aid the floundering economy, and

got both praise and irrate tyrades as she pushed her reforms, and stood like a pitbull when her authority was challenged. She had been forced to reorganize her advisors, and made all bluntly aware that she was not going to tolerate those who cared more about their positions than the people they served. They were free to leave of their own accord, or adjust their actions accordingly. Gone was the soft, gliding inocent she was as a Priestess. In her place, was a world-weary, but wise woman, tempered by suffering, shrewd in her judgement, harsh in her enforcement, but reputed to be fair to those who were at her mercy

.Isis, for a time, found herself in the awkward position of living under beloved Yami's shadow. His charisma, nobility, and untimely death, combined with his heroic sacrifice

made him fodder for legend, something she thought he would blush at. Yami may have been forced to present that indifferent regal mask to the world, but in the last precious days of his life, she had come to know him in a way that the rest of the world would not. And, she cherished his memory all the more, while she made the delicate attempt to move her country and the people forward. It was an uncertain path to trod- to honor his memory, but not be so shackled to the past and mourning for all he would not be that they could not move forward. She knew that Yami would not want that. She always made certain that when he was mentioned in public, it was with the upmost respect and love that she could enforce, as she mourned his loss in the private weeping of her chambers. It was an interesting polarity.

It was a hard, lean time. But, slowly, in the healing of years, and the grace of the future, Egypt regained her place as Queen once more. The dead were buried, the wounds healed, the crops restored, the cities rebuilt. Egypt flourished under Isis. The years had taken its toll on the Pharoah. Her obsidion hair was glinted with silver. Age had made her proud back stoop, and cares had left their scars in gently worn lines around her ocean deep eyes, and mouth. Isis had to lean heavily upon her staff to manuver her way to the chambers, and she found herself shuffling where she used to glide. The span of forty years had gone too quickly for her to count, and she was very aware of the passage of time. Few remembered Yami. He was the "Nameless Pharaoh" the honored dead prince of a legend, reduced to the golden pyramid still wedged in the wall, or the etchings of carvings in the tomb. A fragment of song, a beloved face in her heart, and memory.

It was on the 43rd year of Yami's sacrifice, that Isis was taking a rare moment of solitude as she peered out of the royal balcony. The stars were soaring high, and silver, the moon was a delicate crescant, and the night air brought with it a refreshing coolness to the deepening shadows of her room. It was a bueatiful, but melancholy night, perfect for remembering. Isis noted with a start that it was also the day, 43 years earlier, that Yami had lay down his life. After giving orders that she was not to be disturbed, she scraped away the bricks in the corner, once again, to remove the gold box. The familiar glitter and the feel of the strangely warm metal in her hands brought fresh tears to her eyes as she lifted its lid, hesitated, and then reverently took the Pyramid out. It was exactly the same as she remembered it, the sharp points, the brilliant sheen, the delicate eye of Horus carved on its smooth side.

Tenderly, she placed both palms on the Puzzle, gently probing for Yami's spirit in the vast golden world she now held in her hand. She sensed nothing. With a frown of trepidation furrowing her wrinkled forehead, she made a stonger attempt, and smiled when she felt Yami's spirit, peacefully slumbering, the same blissful oblivion she had sensed from him over the last 40 years. On occasion, she would recieve a fragment of a dream, or an irritated growl at being disturbed. One time, she had felt Yami as he was shuddering from the throes of a nightmare. She hastily errected a mental shield to draw out the vicious dream, and was rewarded by Yami's overflow of gratitude.

Those moments, however were exceedingly rare. From the little she could understand, Yami existed in almost an embriotic state of dark peace, waiting for the right time to re-emerge. Whether or not his memories would be torment or boon was not for her to know. Yami was at peace, Egypt was safe, and she was content.


	12. The Flogging

Author's Note. The italics indicate a flashback in Yami's memory. This chapter takes place after he has been sealed away in the Puzzle, and the Puzzle begins

its attempt to break him. To make sure there is as little confusion as possible, the memories that the Pharoah is experiencing-namely, being whipped by his father,

and tormented by Shimon are manipulated memories that the Puzzle manufactured. I am not really sure what sort of relationship Yami had with his father, but

from the cartoons, and the manga, it seemed to be a very loving, close relationship. I promise, in future chapters, that Yami will definitely be more than my poor

whipping boy, though. To further clarify...Yami is ten years old in the flashback. I tried to keep him in character as possible, and wrote this on the assumption that

he was probably mature for his age, but still very much a child. Anyway...please enjoy!

In The Dark Garden-

It is said that only the darkest flower

Bursts forth in fragrant bloom-

Sometime in evil at brightest hour

Disguised as a tender blossom

With its poisonous perfume-

Deep are the roots of treachery

When growing in the flesh-

Fueled by a careless cruelty-

And by power taken, blessed-

It was said that the last flower

Grew solitary and brave

Only to wilt

Bursting forth beside a grave-

And yielding only to fruitless guilt-

Hielo Warrenbeck 2007

--

The Dark Garden--

It was unknown at what point the Puzzle ceased being content with being little more than the slumbering king's sleeping chamber. It was not sentient, in the sense

that it had a moral drive, or it responded to its enviroment in a way that a living creature might. The Puzzle was created with the purpose of keeping Yami's soul safely housed, until the time came for him to be at peace. Nobody-not even Isis-could have forseen the consequences of infusing so much power within the frail shimmer of

gold. It was assumed-perhaps out of ignorance, or carelessness, that the Puzzle would simply be obedient to the king's wish, and that the king's wish would be

untainted by the more human, perhaps, base instincts that have plagued all free will since its invention. Suffering has a strange effect on people. On some, they bear it

nobly, as a crown, silent in their anguish, allowing it to make them wiser, better, more empathic towards others. Suffering can also break people down to helpless

victims, who do nothing more than cringe, and cower and wait in expectation for the next blow. In a few of the more volital individuals, it stirs up rage-sometimes cruel and calculating, sometimes justified, but always dangerous.

The Puzzle had gathered from Yami's vivid dreams that skittered across his mind, that the young king was well-aquainted with pain, in many forms. Minor aches, like the

torment he endured most of his life for his odd hair, and decidedly short stature that set him apart, without his consent. The heavy responsibility of being the son of a king,

always having to display rigid, unyielding, courtly courtesy to all, the chains of obligation that left him lonely and uncertain. Revered as a god, and lauded for all but having none to confide his fears to. The Puzzle soon deduced that Yami had been lonely, despite being surrounded. Perhaps that is why his friendship with Isis still burned so prettily in his memory. There were deeper scars, as well. Yami was riddled with guilt, still of his mother's untimely death, that resulted in his life. His father had been careful to shield his young son from such a painful burden, but the Pharoah had never remarried out of his grief, and with the young prince as an heir, there was no real need.

Yami displayed the same unflinching loyalty to his loved ones that his father did. There were still, unhealed cuts, that bled as the Puzzle picked them apart, to see the

Pharoah wince, or cry, depending on how deep the hurt. Seth's betrayal had left a gaping wound, that the Puzzle could sense would never heal. Its suspicion was loudly confirmed by the Pharoah's reaction when it probed the area with a minor effort. Yami had emitted not a tear, or a cry, but a snarl of rage. That was a curious reaction.

The Puzzle hastily absorbed the awareness of the memory from Yami, and watched, carefully as Yami's erratic pants slowed to deeper breaths, and he rolled back over, returning to his deep sleep. The Puzzle noticed with curiosity that Yami's mouth was still drawn in its scowl even after the memory was gone.

This was an interesting development. The Puzzle hesitated, then firmly nudged the sleeping king. Yami raised a hand, swatted the irritation away, but did not wake.

Apparently, the slumbering spell of Isis was still doing its protective work after all these years, still burning bright and strong, even if Yami was not aware of it.

The Puzzle shifted from gold to muted bronze, as it wafted a soft blanket of light over Yami's lax body. Yami whimpered sharply, more out of irritation than pain, but

then his deep snoring resumed, and he soon curled up.

Yami was completely blindsided by the Puzzle's attack. Indeed, he did not even know that the Puzzle could attack!

It was a fairly benign memory in itself, of one of Yami's moments of misbehavior as a young boy, bored with his lessons, and longing for a bit of adventure. Shimon-one of the Priests- was attempting to teach the young prince some more of the complicated matters of Egypt's long history. Shimon was an elderly gentleman, with a fondness for the young prince and a saintly patience not to reprimand him too much for his rather balant figeting. Glancing at the sun that was already high in the sky, Shimon gently redirected Yami's wondering eyes back to his lessons. With an annoyed huff of air, Yami rolled his eyes, and whined. Shimon indulged in a chuckle, and bribed Yami

into paying more attention with the promise of cutting the lesson short if Yami would only stay focused a bit longer. Yami gave him a bright smile, and an eager nod.Thus inspired, the lesson finished with a nice conclusion, the prince had mastered the basics, and Shimon had felt he had done well. With an affectionate ruffle of Yami's hair, he dismissed the prince. Yami apologized humbly for his earlier rudeness, and Shimon only responded with another ruffle of his hair, and a tap to his narrow chin. All was forgiven. That was the original,pure memory, that left Yami with a deep respect for Shimon in his forgiveness, and tolerance.

The mutilated version that the Puzzle supplanted in his mind was quite a different story.

_Yami knew that the moment after the words exited his mouth, he had made a collosial error in judgement. He hadn't meant any harm or disrespect, at all! It was just that _

_the lesson was so boring, and he was weary of Master Shimon's droning on and on. It was hard to pay attention when all he wanted was to go outside and play. So, when _

_he asked what he thought was a good question as to why "he needed to learn all this stuff, since he was the prince and had other people to remind him-" Yami was _

_shocked to see Master Shimon's normally cheerful face suddenly scowl, and the squant old man glare at him much like a disturbed bulldog. Yami winced when he saw_

_Master Shimon fold his arms and rise to glower at the Prince, the scowl deepening, his violet eyes taking on deeper shades in his offended anger. Yami hastily stammered _

_out an apology, with a bow to his Master, hoping to assage that uncharacteristic scowl. Master Shimon's only response to Yami was a vicious, and unexpected backhand to the small prince's cheek, and stern consteration. Yami noted the smirk of satisfaction that lighted Shimon's lips as Yami drew a quivering hand to his burning cheek, his eyes and mouth wide with shock at the slap. It almost seemed as if...Shimon was gratified in seeing his suprise and hurt! Yami was further shocked to hear Master Shimon bark out an order for the prince to "sit, be silent, and study your lessons, or I shall strike the other cheek, you imputant runt!" _

_That scathing remark about Yami's size-which had always been an extreme sore spot for him- had hurt even more than the slap. Yami muttered out, "Yes, Master Shimon, _

_I am sorry, sir," he bowed, meekly slid back into his seat, and kept his eyes and head lowered fixed firmly on the book, though the words swam with his tears, and he felt something inside of him crumble and give way._

_Memories swirled, wanned, and frayed, as frail as moonlight on the waves of the Nile, as the Puzzle mutilated another memory..._

_Yami had been abruptly summoned by a worried looking page to his father's chambers. Yami did not see any reason for undue alarm, as his father often_

_asked for him to visit, to play games, or just to see how his young son's day went. They were almost always warm, loving chats, that Yami cherished._

_When Yami arrived to his father's summons, he was taken aback to see the screaming young girl being dragged and manhandled by the two palace guards as they_

_dropped her face down onto the stones, in a mocking bow to the Pharoah. She lay there, shaking, and mussed in a pile of dirtied skirts and soiled garments. Yami blushed and hastily turned away. It just seemed wrong to gawk at a young girl who had been treated like that._

_He flinched when he heard the palace guard announce the arrival of the Pharoah. All members of the royal court began their customary bows, and lauds, as Yami _

_stood, transfixed, and too horrified to move.Timidly, he tapped a guard on the shoulder, and the guard instantly swept into a grand bow_

_"My prince?" Came the rough inquiry, as he continued his abasement, neither moving or rising until Yami gave permission._

_"I am sorry to interfer, sir, but who is that girl, and why is she being dragged here?"_

_The guard raised his dark eyes, and answered with a snarl. "She is riff-raff and a criminal. The Pharoah ordered her brought here for your lesson, my prince."_

_Yami could only look up at him, wide-eyed, his childish innocence making the guard chuckle in amusement and chuck the young prince under the chin._

_"Fear not, my prince. You will understand soon enough." Yami did not answer. He couldn't._

_It was confirmed when the Pharoah strode through the doors, flanked by his guards, his dark eyes glittering with disgust as they fell on his young son._

_Yami stiffened, instinctively, though he quickly shifted and presented his father with a cold, regal bow. "My father, and king..."_

_He fumbled for the proper greeting, then hastily spat it out when he saw his father's disapproving frown. "May Ra bless you with long years and wisdom."_

_His father acknowledged his son with a grunt, then flung a dismissing hand over to the girl and the guards. Yami gulped to see that it was only their_

_hands gripping her arms to leave bruises that kept her upright. He also noticed, for the first time, that she was no older than he._

_"Ahh, so I see you have met the prisoner, my son? She was caught trying to steal bread from one of the guards"_

_The Pharoah allowed himself a tolerant smile, as Yami openly gawked in confusion. Why would his father trouble himself to punish her for such a minor offense?_

_He felt his father's hands on his own, as Yami was lifted, then gently set down on his feet, his father's hand heavy on his small shoulder, as he felt the strange _

_sensation of cold, unflinching leather being placed in his hand. His father smirked, as he lowered himself to be reseated on the throne._

_Yami's eyes trailed downward, to see the cruel, dark leather flog in his hands. Surely his father did not expect him to whip her?  
His fears were confirmed as his father gave him a casual nod, sitting back with ease, and looking for all the world like he was bored and waiting to be entertained._

_Yami looked to his father,with pleading eyes, the whip going slack in his shaking fingers, as it snaked away and fell to the floor in a silent coil._

_"I'm sorry, father! I am so sorry!" He stammered out in hysterical torment. "I...I c-can't do this! Please don't make me whip her, father, I can't do it!"_

_The Pharoah stared down at his son, grimly, the left corner of his mouth curling in disapproval as his dark eyes narrowed._

_"Are you refusing to enforce the basic law of Egypt, my son? Are you refusing to obey me?"_

_Yami could only squirm in embarassment under his father's unwavering glower. He cringed further when he heard his father's growl, demanding an answer._

_Yami could only shrug, helplessly, too panicked and sickened to answer. The Pharoah lurched off his throne in a swirl of robes, as he _

_snatched Yami by his small wrist, and almost hoisted him in the air. He twirled him to meet his eyes, and Yami yelped in pain as he saw his father's eyes almost_

_storming over with disgust. _

_"Stop being a cringing dog and conduct yourself as a prince! Either you will flog her yourself, or take her place." Yami felt the whip being shoved into his hands, as he was uncerimoniously dropped and shoved forth. He stumbled forward, his heart clenching in his chest, his whole body trembling. The whip was coiled about his wrist like a serpent, and all were waiting. Yami stared down at his hands-small, pale hands, so pale against the dark leather, knotted into tiny fists against the fear._

_His eyes went to the girl, who was still laying in a filthy, violated heap, the tattered clothing worn thin enough to expose her flesh._

_He saw her head turn, her face rise somewhere out of that pile of rags and twisted limbs, as _

_she made the quivering attempt to scuttle away, only to meet the guard's pointed boot as he kicked in her stomache. Yami heard the loud crack, the grunt of pain,_

_and the sick sound of her ragged breathing as she collapsed again, and did not move, but only curled into herself, like a dying animal. He heard the strange sound of_

_roaring in his ears, the scene before him blurred with tears through eyes that he squinted shut, to hide his crying and to stop the horrible images from scarring him even more. Her eyes were empty, and staring- dark eyes, the color of the Nile's water, eyes that were inocent, and wide and scarred as his own, that shimmered through_

_the strings of her hair, and gaped at him beseechingly before their halting trail burned brighter as they fell on the whip._

_He stood, helpless, his feet feeling as if they were encased in brick, and immovable, while his heart squirmed, tightened, and convulsed in his chest, like a fist. His_

_head was pounding, and aching from the strain and the sobs, and burning from the scathing, bitter glower that his father was undoubtably burning into the back of his_

_bowed, quivering skull. And all of his thoughts had taken on the panicked wings and teeth of dragons, clawing about his brain, snarling for dominance, as he could only_

_stand there and silently feel the tears in their wet, humiliating trails down his cheeks._

_With quaking hands, and nausea churning in his gut, he turned towards the girl,his face agonized with guilt, as he threw the whip back over one shoulder, closed his eyes, and let it blindly fly where it would._

_It was more brutal than even his imagination could venture. A second later, he felt the reverberation shudder through the leather as it struck her across her bowed back, _

_tearing the remnants of her garment, shredding flesh and cloth with indifference as if there were a hungry beast ripping her back apart. He heard her shrill cry of pain, clawing through the air, tearing into his mind, felt the sickening crack and the blood that dribbled down the handle as the cord soared back towards him. He raised a hand, peering at it as if it were not his, eyes and mouth mute with numbed indifference as he saw her scarlet wound's gore on his fingers as if he were the one that was bleeding._

_Somewhere, he heard his father's satisfied grunt, and then, that cruel amusement, as he ordered, "Very good, my son. Now, do it again."_

_Yami could only shudder, and answer with a sobbing shake of his head. He was ten years old, unschooled in how to hurt others, and too traumatized by what he had seen and inflicted to even move. Inflicting pain for amusement was a concept that his innocence had never even considered before. _

_"You refuse me?" The Pharoah's voice was soft, and menacing, as he cocked his head to the side, and considered his son with irritation. Yami did not answer, but could only stand there, rooted to the floor, and feeling as if his entire body was imprisoned by flesh turned to ice._

_"Very well, my son. You shall bear her punishment for your disobedience, and cowardness." That promise ended Yami's stupor, as he gasped to plead for mercy._

_His father's lip curled in disgust, as he dismissed his son's sobbing with a wave. "The longer you cry and whimper, and act like a beaten slave, the longer my whip_

_shall fall upon your flesh."_

_The flogging might have been honorable, if the wailing cries were heaved out from a grunting, penetant criminal, worthy of the punishment._

_But to hear the high-pitched, blinding shrieks of a child whose contorted body convulsed under the binding grips of two guards that had to stoop to restrain him, because he was so small was sickening to anybody with a heart._

_Yami didn't even have time to cry out before he found his wrists seized, his arms unwillingly splayed out, until he thought they would rip them from their sockets. He peered, fearfully over his shoulder and saw his father already rising and wiping the gore from the whip with deliberate purpose, as he slicked oil onto the whip, to prevent the blood from damaging its cord. A well-oiled whip was essential for this task. Indeed, Yami found himself almost dangling in the air, held firmly by the vicious hands that gripped him, and held him helpless. _

_His father gave the regal and indifferent order to remove his tunic. Yami yelped in shock when he felt the garment being ripped away from his body, and cringed at the sudden wave of chill that laced up his spine, the small, unmarred back shuddering at both the humiliation, and the waiting for the whip. His tunic was tossed away, and Yami wanted so desperately to curl up in himself, hide and heal. He turned his head, to look at his father, to plead for mercy...to make it stop..._

_It was not to be. He felt, rather than heard the whip being flung back and then brought down in a cruel, snapping arch. There was an eerie rush of wind, silence, and then pain. Searing, anguish that felt as if his flesh were melting from his bones in fiery strips, mixing in with the heat of his own blood, and the burn from the leather. Pain that grew teeth and knives, hungry pain that consumed all other awareness besides his physical agony, as his knees gave way, and yielded, as his eyes instinctively shut against the onslaught,as the guards grunted in annoyance and hoisted him to his feet in preparation for the next blow. Another blow, another arch of fire merrily feasting on his blood,an inferno on his back, lightening quickening in his veins, as he rocked and shuddered from each crack, but only found himself spiraling into a dark swoon where the pain could not reach him as much. His nerves twitched in protest, his voice harsh from the screams, his last efforts to stay upright ended as he could only manage the occasional grunt or whine to even indicate that he still breathed. After the stormlash of the whip, the air being filled with his screams, and the feeling of his own blood warm, and crusting over the knarled scars, the Pharoah stopped. Through the red haze, Yami could see him casually wiping the whip free of his son's blood, then coiling as he passed it into the hands of a waiting servant._

_Yami heard footsteps coming for him, as the guards dragged him to his feet, and held him up. Yami could not even stand. He felt a hand grace his cheek, sweep along the tear-marred cheekbone, thumb away a bit of the blood, and tilt his chin upward. Yami forced his eyes open, to stare at the perversely gentle smile of his father, as he stared at the clouded, dull violet eyes, half-closed in pain. "You withstood your punishment as a man, my son."_

_With those words, the Pharoah eyed the shredded, bloody back, and ran a finger down the tattered expanse. Yami was too far numb to even shudder in reply as his father wiped the blood away with a waiting cloth, and gave orders for his son to be taken to the palace healers and treated immediately._

The Puzzle chuckled when it saw Yami's face contort, first in a grimace, and then a snarl of pain mixed with rage.

Yami shoved his sweating, quaking palms to his drenched temples, as he bolted awake.

Isis bolted awake, one hand flew to her heaving chest, the other one braced in defense against the burning of her Necklace. She could not help but blanch at the dark, hungry, ripples of rage that were radiating from the neckace's center. She quickly scanned the room, and saw nothing amiss. There was no disturbance that she could decipher beyond the near shrieking of the Necklace as it desperately sought its mistress's attention. Still shaking from the horrible nightmare, Isis flung away the covers, slipped on a warm, velvet robe against the chill, and slid her feet into her heavy, fur-lined slippers.

She hissed when she felt the Necklace glowing white, until it burned her flesh, radiating a fierce warning to some threat she could not see. Her necklace had not done such an action since the rise of the Shadow Realm nearly 50 years ago. Isis tensed instinctively when she felt the necklace draw forth a massive swell of energy, then abruptly fling up a protective shield, without Isis's command. She raised a groping hand to the cold metal at her neck, and was even more alarmed to see the middle loop of its intricant center burn bright, and then shoot a long, whining swirl of glittering fire towards the corner of the room, blasting apart some of the bricks in the wall. Isis watched in awe, as the bricks, instead of shattering, and fragmenting into dangerous projectiles, hovered harmlessly in the air, and then meekly deposited themselves onto the ground.

To her horror, the hole blasted in the wall had unearthed the Puzzle's hiding place. Through the dim light of the torches, she could see the same smug of glittering gold, the

points sharp and bared like fangs, silent menace radiating out from the hole in the wall. Her necklace, again, independent of her will, shimmered ominously, then emitted a bright shower of sparks, illuminating the Puzzle as if to give Isis a clearer view.

The Puzzle flared a darker gold in warning, as Isis hesitantly raised an index finger to touch its surface. She braced herself, expecting a recoil of pain, To her shock, the Puzzle felt cold next to her flesh...almost dead. She was startled, though to feel the icy liquid glide away from her fingertip. Fearfully, she raised her hand to the torchlight, to see what had made the Puzzle wet. With a cry, she saw the dark, scarlet dribble down her finger, to her wrist. It was blood.

Alarm filled her, her heart darkened, and quaked with the unflinching, familiar terror as she fought to keep from sliding on the floor to her knees with a wailing cry.

With tortured clarity, she knew, beyond any merciful pretense, that the horrible nightmare was not stemming from the Puzzle, but Yami himself.


	13. Awakenings

Corrupted...Awakenings-

Yami found himself staring rather stupidly at the golden walls around him, as if transfixed. Lucidity was slowly coming back to his sluggish thoughts, and he batted away a yawn. He was still lingering in that strange twilight of being fully awake and half asleep. The sleeping spell had been wanning for some time, but its drugged torpor that voraciously clung to his brain was making it extremely difficult for Yami to even attempt to piece together where he was. He could detect no danger, and surely there was no threat that a bunch of shimmering bricks could have, but...he struggled to recall what exactly forced him to bolt out of his bed as if he had slept on a tack, and what exactly was making his heart thunder with overwhelming fear. There were snatches of the dream, still floating in his thoughts, as he distractedly scratched his back.  
A hiss of pain escaped his lips. It felt like fire had laced down his spine, and something warm and wet was now globbed on his fingers. Yami's eyes and alarm grew when he saw his fingers coated with blood. He twisted his neck to look over his shoulder and paled to see that the entire back of his once white tunic was drenched scarlet.

He flinched when the overwhelming sensation washed over him like a dark ocean wave...fear, pain, betrayal, and himself as a child, beaten and bleeding and broken, while...somebody who was supposed to protect him laughed at his howl of agony that reverberated through his core.

. The father Yami remembered was a kind, patient man, who professed, and practiced mercy. It would have been completely against his father's morality to order anybody so brutally beaten, especially not a child-a girl at that!

Yami clutched his aching head in an attempt to piece together some semblance of his new reality. He groaned, as he shook his head, and stared, for the first time at his surroundings. His eyebrows raised and lowered in consternation, as he surveyed the magnificant bed-satin sheets of the highest quality, cloud-like pillows, guilded pillars that held up the soaring canopy...it was a bed truly fit for a prince.The rest of his chamber-for want of a better term-was almost the same as his sleeping chamber in Egypt, except the walls there were of the same sandstone as all the other buildings, and here, all the walls were cast in shimmering gold. Yami massaged the last of his headache away, slightly annoyed that his head would be hurting that long. He was slight, but aside from his stomache's rebellion when he was nervous, or in pain, he had little ill health except for the usual childhood illnesses. Curiously, he looked down his chest to see what sort of clothing he had on, and was pleased to discover that he still had his favorite pristine tunic, though all his gold manacles were absent, as was his cloak. Unhindered by the heavy gold, and cloak, Yami stretched catlike in the rumpled sheets, yawned, and set his feet onto the floor. The stones beneith his feet were strangely warm, but not unpleasant, as he no longer had his sandles. Yami placed a hand on a wall, and drew it away when he felt the bricks pulse under his palm. He shook his head, at the idiocy. The bricks felt like they had a heartbeat. He lay an experimental hand over the wall again, and was startled to feel the lobbing, dull thud that he felt in his own chest. Yami shot a questioning look at the wall, and realized that somehow, the bricks were sharing the same pulse as he did, as bizarre as it was. Yami just shook his head. It was odd, but it did not seem to be threatening. And if what Isis said about the Puzzle being able to contain his soul was true, then it would only make sense for it to be linked to him, somehow.

Isis...a meloncholy twist came to his lips when he remembered her. He had little doubt that Egypt was in good hands, that she had proven herself to be a capable, merciful ruler. But, thinking of his dearest friend only accentuated the lonliness as he stared at the familiar, but empty room. Shrugging off the ache, he opened the heavy wooden door, and cautiously stepped outside. The door slammed shut with a thundering clang, and Yami almost leaped into the air at the sudden noise. Yami stared at the door for long moments, before he ventured forward to the strange sight that lay before him.

As far as Yami could make out, a labyrith of golden bricks spiraled outward into dark corridors, in a vast complicated network of hallways, passages, and other heavy wooden doors. The walls were lit within from the same glittering shine that illumiated everything else, so he had no need for a torch. He gazed up at the golden walls, to their ceiling, and found a bricked ceiling that arched and cascaded back down into the walls.

Yami strode forth, staring wide-eyed at the endless gold hallways, trying to open the doors and growling in frustration to see that every one of them seemed to be locked.  
He may have wondered through the labyrith for a few moments, or years. Here, there was absolutely nothing to mark the passage of time, no change, no schedule...nothing, but the endless bricks, and his own hollow footfalls. For a while, Yami simply savored the sensation of thoughts that were not tainted by anguish,  
a neck that was free of scars, a body that was not held down and subjected to torture for the amusement of a sadistic monster's knife. He shivered when he remembered Seth's cackle of laughter as that knife was plunged into his frail flesh, over and over and over again...

Yami snarled, and unknown to him, the Puzzle gleamed in satisfaction. Yami felt the old familiar quiver of his stomache muscles, the bile burning its way to the back of his throat, and he swallowed hard against it, waiting. To his relief, the urge passed, but left him troubled. If he was serenely in the afterlife as Isis promised, why was he awake, and why was the same old adominal troubles bothering him now ? Was he not a spirit, and therefore no longer subject to things like pain, or even something as humiliating as vomiting? Yami gazed around the golden walls, saw how they spiraled outward, further than his eye could make out, into dark corners that were tucked in shadows. None of it made sense. If this were his "container," then what were all these hallways, and what exactly transpired in his mind to convince him that his father was an abusive monster? If anything, his father was almost angelic in his mercy towards his subjects, and always taught his young son to show compassion first, force last. Yami sighed in meloncholy, but shuttled the sad thoughts away. He would have plenty of time later to brood in misery as he pleased, if he felt guilty enough. He imagined his father would not be happy to know that his young son was still weeping at his memory years later. And he was doing himself no favors by all of his tears.  
He had shed so many, tears of pain, tears of guilt, tears of pleading, and none of it had done him any good at all. It was a bitter realization, but Yami allowed himself the unusual luxury of self-acceptance. There was nobody here to judge him for his reactions, and after all he had been through, he assumed he was entitled to whatever means he had to get through it.

It could have been hours, days, or years, that Yami walked around in endless corridors, as he searched for something-anything-besides the locked doors, the spiraling passages that curled inward into dizzying circles. It was infuriating, not knowing if the passages he was traveling through were simply him being lost, or if he was successful in retracing his own footsteps. There was absolutely no way for him to know. Each and every passage was an exact replica of the last. And if that were the case...how could he be so hopelessly lost?

Yami put another hand to the shining walls, and felt the heartbeat throbbing through the stone, in time to his own pulse again. With a furrowed brow, he backed away.

"How is this possible? What exactly am I supposed to do now?" He spoke out loud to himself, because there was nobody around but those irritating, similar walls everywher to answer.

It was then the Puzzle decided to reveal itself to the increasingly irritable monarch.

Welcome, my Pharoah, to your new domain. Perhaps I may have the answers you seek?

Yami spun around, the shock of hearing another voice making him tense warily. He barked out, "Who is there? Show yourself!"

Yami felt the wry chuckle at his expense filling the golden walls, and wildly glared around in all directions, looking for the source of the voice.

You are truly not in a position to give orders to me, my Pharoah. Your power was forfeit when you deemed it necessary to give up your life for your foolish people.

Yami raised a peeved eyebrow, his pride chafing, as he spluttered out a retort. "My people were hardly foolish! And who are you, to tell me that I am in no position to give orders! I am a Pharoah!!"

Yami was incensed to hear the amused chortle trickling from the walls, burbling up through the floor, echoing through the vast dark halls.

You are incorrect in that aspect, my king. A Pharoah has a people to rule, a purpose to guard them and protect them, not to mention he pocesses a body.  
You are nothing but a haunted spirit, willingly bound to an eternal prison from some twisted sense of obligation. Look around you, Pharoah. Is this how you envisioned eternity to be?

Yami narrowed glittering eyes, as he crossed his arms over his chest. "What an idiotic question." He spat. "I fully expected to go to the House of Ra, and enjoy the Feasting of Plenty, with my father and my ancestors. How was I to know that I would wind up...here?"

Silence and then another painful, mocking question. Oh? And where do you think here is, my Pharoah? Please, enlighten me with your great wisdom as to where you perceive yourself to be.

Yami shrugged, as he glanced uncertainly around the golden walls again. "Isis told me that my soul was to be housed in the Pyramid, until I was ready to be released. I was supposed to be slumbering peacefully until that time."

And what proof do you have that your Priestess friend was telling the truth, my Pharoah? Recall your suffering at her hands...suffering at the hands of one you trusted.  
Do you remember how you lay there, helpless by her spell and pleading for a mercy that never came? She stripped you defenseless, and ordered you poisoned. You were held down and beaten like an animal, as you were poisoned into submission. Is that the action of a friend, my Pharoah?

Yami's eyes went wide, as he quickly rose to full height, praying that the flinch of fear went unnoticed as he announced in his most regal, haughty voice,

"That was but a fragment of a nightmare, undoubtably triggered by my preoccupation with dying. Forgive me, whoever you are. I was not at my best."

Oh? And what proof do you have that it did not happen that way? The human mind is a vast, complex thing, and its ability to forget, or reinterpret that which pains it is a great gift for living with what would break you otherwise.

Yami turned his back in a show of royal scorn. "Isis would never betray me in such a vicious manner. It was a dream, I tell you!"

Deny the truth at your peril, or pleasure, my king. But, if you are so certain that it was nothing more than a dream, then why are you so uncertain and defensive about it?

"Why do you ask me this? Why should I answer any of your questions? You haven't even the decency to reveal who you are!" 


	14. RetributionGRAPHIC!

Author's Note-There is not a whole lot to say about this chapter, except that it's graphic. Please note that I don't advocate doing what Yami does to Seth as an outlet. I am, in reality, a fairly meek person. But, there were a few emails from people who wanted a corrupted Yami...and this weirdness is what came out.Please not that this is extremely violent.

The Puzzle, as usual, did not deem it necessary to answer Yami's desperate questions, a trait that Yami found profoundly infuriating. Yami could feel the Puzzle's shifting over his exposed thoughts, and he shuddered to feel the oily slithering over his deep wounds. He gritted his teeth,  
willing himself not to cry out. He would not shame himself like that again..if he could help it, he thought with a wince. He shook his head in all-too knowing self mockery. For all his pretentions about being strong, and his noble intentions that seemed so right at the time, the only honor he had left to show for it was a constant war with his own self-torture and the ever hungry Puzzle's waiting to drink more of his pain.  
He wondered, briefly as he stared down the endless spiraling corridors that wove their way into the darkness, if he would ever be free.  
The promise of Isis still lay, treasured and protected in his heart. But, that radiating hope shown so cold and frail in contrast to these glittering bricks of his prison.

And, in the forboding shadows that coiled ever deeper around his heart, the unknown king waged his nightly war against madness and despair. It was a futile fight, slow, relentless, and even tedious in its monotony. There was absolutely no distraction, no change, nothing, but the endless familiar futility. Yami found occasional refuge in reliving one of his fragmented memories. There were a few that remained unmarred by the Puzzle's meddling. And, in the end, Yami no longer cared if they were mutilated, or not, if it meant a few moments where he had an escape from his haunted existance. Little did he know that his own Puzzle was a haven compared to the prison that other souls may only dream of.  
And, in the deepening, cruel amusement, the Puzzle wove its most depraved manifestation.

-

It was the shrill cry of his own screams and choking on his own blood that filled his ears, as the sob exploding from his throat echoed through the darkness.  
He was not sure how long he had been in this hellish place, or even what he had done to be tortured so. The vague memory of blood that was not his own, the cringing sense of his own honor being hideously betrayed, and overwhelming guilt and despair flooded through him in one, unrelenting torrent. Seth had lay in his own blood for as long as he could remembered. His scars were prominently displayed as testimony to his own evil.  
He recoiled at remembering his last moments of life...the alien blade in his hand, staring in anguished horror at the sight of Yami's throat spewing scarlet, the rooted paralysis that he and the dying king both shared, as Yami heaved his last breath, and Isis ended his suffering by his own blade. He remembered the agony that glittered up from Yami's eyes...the tortured questioning of why, the futile groping of his hands at his sleeve. The sickening warmth of all that blood on his robe. He heard himself cackling madly, felt his mouth twist in satisfaction at the suffering of Yami, and even his lips curl in snide satisfaction at Isis's demand for an answer. An answer that he had no more power to give than he did to reverse time and prevent this whole travesty. Seth could not reconcile his years of peaceful service and devotion to the cause of Yami with his own depravity. Indeed, he had willingly risked his life to defend the young king, without hesitation. So...how could he do such a thing? He had no answer for the monster he had become. He had no answers, at all. And, in his heart of hearts, he knew that even if he had a perfectly logical explanation as to why he slashed Yami's throat open, it would never be enough to take away the guilt and the consequences.

He opened his eyes blind. All around him was the consuming darkness, and the roving shadows that bore their teeth back in sated hunger-for now.  
He knew without question they would be back to devour him again. The sounds around him were nothing but his own wailing cries, and the roar of all that he feared. The only sights around him was the shimmer of his own useless tears.  
So, when the wafting light softly drifted down, it was as if the gates of Heaven opened themselves. He watched in amazement as the pearled orb gently danced over his heaving chest, and then cast its radiance on his own scars. He was even more amazed to feel the pain slacken, then vanish, as the shadows drew back in surrender, releasing him.

Seth could only stare in shock as the light beckoned him forward,as he stumbled forth, and then burst into a full run. ---

Yami's head shot up when he heard the strange sound of rapidly falling footsteps, and he cocked his head towards the sound, curiously. Aside from the eerie silence of the Puzzle, and the thump of his own heart, it was extremely unnerving to hear anything else. He shot a scathing glance up at the Puzzle's ceiling, with a distainful hiss of warning, as he summoned the familiar fire to his fingers. The glow was reassuring to him, and he rose to his feet,warily.

It was the familiar tilt of the dark head, and the narrowing of cold saphire eyes that made Yami's heart clench in disbelief. It was seeing Seth emerge from the shadows, with his tunic stained with Yami's blood that made his body want to crumble from the onslaught of memories, and suffering.  
It was the raging, rising current of cold, alien hatred that forced Yami's knees to stiffen, his back to unfold himself, and brought forth the eerie calulating rage and ice that made Seth pale visibly in fear.

There was no cringing, no pleading, and certainly no possibility of wounding the slight king who stood before him, and stared up at him in silent menace.  
The patient waiting of the panther before the wounded prey. The nonchalant dagger casually flaunting its blade before the kill.  
Seth staggered backwards, as if Yami had dealt him a blow under the sheer weight of the glittering malice in those violet eyes.  
"I will not ask what brings you forth. Indeed, I am grateful for your reappearance, Seth." His voice was a velvet growl, as he drew his lips back in vicious promise.

"Indeed, old friend." Yami almost purred as he tilted his head to the side with a raised eyebrow, and regal scorn, before he lowered his mouth to Seth's trembling ear.

"Do you know how bueatiful retribution can be?" The soft threat lingered in the air between them, as Seth gulped and attempted a desperate plea.  
It was choked down by the strangling grip on his throat, as he found himself lifted off of his feet, and peering downward into Yami's content and resolute expression. Indeed, Yami looked almost cheerful as he tightened the fingers until blood ran down from the quivering throat. His grin only grew when he heard Seth's hitching breath, and saw the pained tears springing up. Seth watched in horrified disgust as Yami watched the glittering trail slide over his fist, only to grin in satisfaction.

"Why these tears now, Seth? You paid mine no heed." Yami wiped the tear off on Seth's soiled tunic, with a sneer. "Indeed, Seth. I am being far too merciful,  
am I not? You didn't stop your attack after my throat was cut, did you? No, that was not enough for you. You stabbed, and stabbed, and stabbed, while I lay in my own blood, in so much pain..." Yami's eyes narrowed coldly at the memory, but no tears came. There was no more tears to be shed, now.  
"And the worst thing of all was that you betrayed me.Isis may have ended my life, but you were the one who relished my suffering. You were the one who cherished every one of my dying breaths like a treasured jewel. Tell me something, Seth. Do the memories of my agony give you comfort in your miserable afterlife? Or do they grow teeth and tear at your heart?"

From the cold delivery of that rant, and the tightening in Yami's jaw, Seth knew, beyond any merciful uncertainty that there was no pain deeper than that of betrayal, and no balm for hatred as vast and engulfing as the poison that now pounded through Yami's thoughts, gave him the strength to strangle, and wound, and hurt. Gave him the justification to kill.

Idly, he wondered exactly how Yami planned to carry it out. Indeed, from the coiled lip and the considering glance, Yami seemed to be quite enthralled with the idea of Seth's torture being drawn out to its full, brutal conclusion. It was evidenced in the unmerciful grip on his throat, the teasing torment of his gut twisting in terror.

Yami slammed the slack body against the wall, then drew ironically gently fingers to Seth's chin, angling his face to peer into his eyes.  
"Do you see the monster before you, Seth? Do you see what your hands have wrought? Look well upon this creature I have become at your hands.  
Look at your creation, Seth, and see what suffering can do. Does it please you to know that that you have corrupted me to the point that I cherish the thought of killing you? Are you satisfied in knowing that I am happy at the thought of you being eternally damned?"

Seth could only open his eyes in a silent plea, the beseeching tears and helpless groping for forgiveness and its refusal curdling in his heart like rot and dismantling any possibility for hope. He was not worthy to seek it. And Yami was certainly not going to grant it. It was the most brutal punishment, but the most fitting, to see warm regard and friendship stripped away in agony,to be replaced by the harsh, unbending condemption at the hands of the king he once swore to protect with his own life. And the agonizing guilt in knowing that Seth was the one who had done this...

He shivered in realization. The retaliation from Isis was little more than a kiss in passing compared to the unleashed rage of the Pharoah. The Puzzle itself recoiled when it heard the piercing dying cry, a wailing laced with unspeakable torture, the last pleading cry for absolution before it was completely consumed by the darkness forever. The Puzzle shuddered in horror when it felt Seth's blood, hot, and wet and violating splatter on its walls, and trembled in fear when it felt the reverberation of Seth's soul being devoured at Yami's cold command, and it quelled when it heard Yami's eerie laughter wafting up in mirthless satisfaction. Yami casually wiped gore from his fingers, with the tattered remnants of Seth's tunic, and he spat on the hideous aftermath of the dismembered remains. He kicked the severed head with one distaining toe, and watched it roll, his grin widening to see Seth's face frozen in its dying scream.

Yami gave the bloodied scene one last scornful glance before he rose in a graceful swagger. He turned his glittering eyes to the walls around him, and whispered, "I know not if this was a manifestation of your design, nor do I care. But, understand this. I did nothing to this wretch that I will not hesitate to do to you when I get the chance." The Puzzle shivered at the icy warning, and did not attempt to stop Yami as he strode away.  
Mutely, the Puzzle surveyed the trail of blood that followed in fear. 


	15. Yugi

Time itself seemed to be pensive, waiting, and very afraid as the moments slowly drifted in uncertain, unmarked passing through the golden walls. The Puzzle made no move to provoke, instigate, or even acknowledge Yami, except for a respectful silence and distance that Yami once craved so much.  
He remembered little in the time following Seth's demise, except to marvel at the beast lurking just below the surface, that insidious rage that ran as a dark undercurrent where his meekness used to be. After the slaying, Yami had fallen into a blissfully numb indifference-from shock, from rage, or maybe the same old vulnerabilty that rose so painfully when Seth reappeared. Yami could label his revenge as just retaliation, or even sanitize it as "ridding the world of an evil person." But, Seth had been completely at his mercy, stunned, and sickened, and tormented even more than he had been. Yami had honestly believed that his noble impulses were always enough to shield himself from the lie that he was as shamefully human and fully subject to the baser instincts of animals. But, now...after sitting in the dark for hours, staring stupidly at his bloodied, clenched fists, and feeling the surging rush of revulsion mixed with awe, and terror at himself for what he had done...Yami knew that something horrible within himself had irrivocably changed. And it left him shivering in anguish where his sobs might have been, at one point.

He felt guilt, of course. Overwhelming sadness over the death of the one he once called friend. Even a bit of pity for the wretched way that Seth had been slain. But, Yami could not summon enough grief to assage his guilt, and he could not even bring himself to cry. He felt as if he had become a monster. It was that searing realization that almost broke him. When the Puzzle had its delight in its torment, at least then,  
Yami had a clearly defined enemy, whose motives could be understood, resisted, and on occasion, conquered. Now, from the reverberating terror that radiated from the walls around him, and even the eerie sensation of the Puzzle's core scuttling away from him like a scared rodent fleeing for a rock,it only served as confirmation for Yami's deepest fears...that he had become the horror he had despised at one point. It mattered little if it was by his choice, or not.  
So, in a perverse way, Yami wound up accomlishing for himself what the Puzzle could not...a complete shattering of everything he once thought as truth. Yami spent most of his time doing little but indulging in self-torturing misery, stewing over all that he had done wrong, the fear leaving him crippled, and the guilt leaving him feeling unworthy of freedom. So, he simply stopped fighting the Puzzle, prefering to sit and stew.

So, while Yami spent his time brooding in the darkness, the world outside had changed profoundly. Gone were the ancient gods of Anubis, Isis, Osiris.  
Hathor no longer nurtured her children. Egypt's riches were plundered, the sacred tombs broken open, and the bodies of the Pharoah's on display for the public in museums around the world. The age of the god-kings had passed, faded to memory, and the Nile herself was like a caged tiger, altered by dams,  
modern ingenuity, and now subject to man's odd whims. Isis, the high priestess, had long passed into intiquity,there was no memory of Seth, save Yami's scarred neck, and Yami himself was only known as an etching on a tomb's wall, a golden box where the Puzzle resided, and Yami's sacrifice reduced to the legend of the "Nameless Pharoah." Yami may not have been displeased with such a title. Until one day, the old tomb was broken open, and Yami's slow deliverance began.

Solomon Moto stood with hands on his hips, and his mouth drawn into a considering frown underneith his brimmed hat. He was a short, squant man, with wild spikes of silver that jutted out of his headband, as he surveyed the dunes and rocks around him with narrowed, violet eyes. His instincts-longed honed by years of excavations, and incredible success, kept him drawn to the rather obscure wall that coiled back into the ancient ruins, carved out the slope side of the valley.He was known for being a pitbull to those who disrespected the ancient's resting place. He himself preferred to leave the dead where they lay, but that was hardly his choice now. The clatter of a falling rock drew his attention as the small stone shattered against the bricks. He heard the eager, scurrying footseps, as his beloved young grandson came trotting down the side of the hill, almost falling from the sand.

"Yugi! Come away from there, and let those men work!" Yugi Moto's bright, tri-colored hair emerged, spikes first from behind the slope, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Okay, Grandpa." Solomon waved the boy over, impatiently. "Come now, Yugi. I have something important to show you."

Solomon smiled fondly at Yugi, who gave him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Grampa. What is it you wanted to show me?" Solomon ruffled the spiked hair, fondly,  
as he pointed to the wall. "Let's see how well you studied Egyptian history, my boy. What do those carvings look like to you?"

Yugi stared at the massive carving, eyes widening to see the humanesque figure, the faint lines gracefully depicting the Eye of Horus, in swirls that crowned the figure baring familiar looking spikes and a hand raised in salute, or combat against a tall, lean figure.

"I don't know, Grandpa. Does that symbol mean Pharoah? It looks like it shows a battle, and those carvings say the Pharoah has no name. Did I get it right?"

Solomon tenderly squeezed his shoulder, warmly. "Yes, my boy, that is all correct. Pretty soon, you will be better at this than I am. Now..what do you say we do a bit of investigating on our own?"

Yugi gave him an eager, heart-warming smile. 'Why don't you get the flashlights, and tell the diggers where we'll be. I know you wanted to see the burial chamber up close, right?"

Yugi quickly returned with the flashlights, and he was figeting like a newborn colt as Solomon slowly led him down to the mouth of the chamber. "Now, Yugi. Before we go in, I want you to remember, that this area is sacred. Don't break anything, or be disrespectful. We wouldn't want to invoke the wrath of the Egyptian gods, now would we?" He asked with a smile.

Yugi nodded, solemnly, and wide-eyed, as Solomon aimed the flashlight beam into the huge, mouthlike opening, and carefully trod forth. He beckoned Yugi with a wave over his shoulder. He heard Yugi's soft footsteps following close behind.

"It is perfectly safe, Yugi, if you want to look around. Go ahead!" Solomon waved the boy ahead, after stepping aside. Yugi gave him a cautious glance for permission, and only stepped forward after Solomon's welcoming grin. Solomon's grin faded, and his thoughts darkened when he knew that Yugi was not preoccupied with displeasing his grandfather.

The fact that Yugi had actually seemed eager, and happy was heartening to the old man. It had been a little more than two months since the boy came to live with him permanently. His mother-Samantha Moto-Solomon's granddaughter-had signed custody over to him after a long, and bitter trail of broken years in her wake.  
As a child, then a young girl, she had always been a flighty, pretty, untamable creature, unable to be caged, contained, or forced to take responsibility for any of her actions. As a teenager, and then a young woman, she alternated between the promises to reform, change, and live a good life, begging Solomon for money, or returning to the same swarthy men that used her with her own permission and left her with the bruises, and the intolerable lie that there was something better out there than what she had. She held no belief of responsibility, and had no interest in any pursuit beyond the day's pleasure.  
Of course, motherhood and such a lifestyle were definitely not a good mix, but from the free and easy tendencies she had..it was only a matter of time before she found herself with an unplanned baby, and no interest in keeping him.

Solomon had taken his wayward daughter in, of course. He gave her shelter, security, and demanded nothing in return except that she take care of herself and the baby. So, she ate his food, slept in security, and made an attempt to reform herself, far more of an attempt than Solomon had seen in years. She worked hard at the game shop, and started taking classes in the evening. She attended her prenatal doctor's visits promptly, and glowed with the news that she was going to have a healthy baby boy. And, for a few months, father and daughter were closer than they had ever been.

It was after Samantha delivered the bouncy, happy, violet eyed boy that she named Yugi, things had turned sour again. She dropped out of school. Her interest in the gameshop wanned. Gradually, she drifted away, making a token effort to care for her infant son, while Solomon resumed more and more responsibility for his poor grandson.It was the night that Samantha came home drunk and covered with bruises, and passed out on the floor next to the screaming infant that Solomon had finally garnered enough courage to confront her.

He was gentle in his words, wary of Yugi baring the brunt of any reprecussions. Samantha screamed at him, threatening to remove Yugi permanently, and Solomon backed down, with a tearful glance at the sleeping infant.

After changing and feeding the young boy, Solomon rocked the baby to sleep, and put his grown daughter to bed, still in her torn, sodden clothes. He woke in the morning to find an apologetic note in the crib in her scrawled handwriting, and the gaping abscence of both his daughter and grandson.  
Samantah had completely vanished for a year after that. One night, though, she made a pleading phone call from the police station. Her demons were after her again, and she was arrested on disorderly conduct charges. Yugi was left at her rundown appartment, and she was worried. Solomon, of course, bailed Samantha out of jail, after collecting the one year old, in protective arms shaking with rage. It was a bitter, tortured time after that. He made it clear to Samantha that she would always have a place to stay as long as he had breath, but she was a mother, and needed to care for her son. Samantha never did grow up enough for that, and Yugi was shuffled between her place and Solomon's, in between Samantha's sporadic jobs, stints in rehab, a few nights in jail, or whose bed or bruise her insanity had earned her.

It was when Samantha dumped Yugi off with an ill-disguised bruise on his left cheek that Solomon had had enough. From the too-large clothes that reaked of cigarettes, to that wary, weary terror that now blazed in those violet eyes, to the half a dozen cigarrette burns that decorated the inside of his left arm, Solomon stared at his grandson with sorrow, then looked at Samantha with rage. His daughter recieved a sound slap across the cheek, as he herded her to the door. He left her with the oath of, "My grandson will not be subjected to any more of your irresponsibilty"  
Samantha had stared at her son, with one long, tearful glance, backwards, then drew the wet hood over her streaming hair, and walked away. Solomon had not heard from her since. Nor did he care to.

Solomon's thoughts grew brighter as Yugi peered at the dark surroundings, not with fear, but an eager smile, as he waved the flashlight over the barren walls.  
Yugi glanced at his grandfather,then cocked his head to the side with narrowed eyes, as he shined the beam over the unnoticed crack in the wall.  
Puzzled, Solomon's eyes traveled from Yugi's concentrated squint to the crack in the wall, with an uncertain twist beneith his mouth. "Yugi? What is it?"

Yugi shook his head, as he crept forward. "I don't know, Grandpa...I just feel like there's something weird about that corner, there."

Solomon allowed a tolerent smile. "Well, Yugi...go investigate it. You won't harm anything." Yugi practically leapt to the corner, and gave an exploritory flash of light to the crevice, and his eyes widened, as he waved Solomon over, urgently. 'Grampa!" his voice was shaking with awe,"there IS something here!  
Something gold!Come here and look!"

Solomon followed the trail of light to see the unmistakeable glint of gold from the black, and with a gentle nudge pushing Yugi aside, he carefully reached

into the crack of the rock and drew out the golden object. He heard Yugi's gasp of shock, as he placed the heavy object on the floor, carefully.  
"Grampa, what in the world is that?"

Solomon did not answer, as he raised an appraising eyebrow, his hands quivering with excitment. "Well, Yugi, you may have just uncovered an object that has not been viewed for the last few thousand years. Well done!"

"Really?!That is awsome! But, Gramps, what is it?" Solomon studied the strange, swirling eye of Horus, the elaborate curved carvings that went from lid to bottom, and then spun back across the sides. "It's not the box itself that is extrordinary, Yugi. It's what is inside." Solomon carefully lifted the lid,  
and lowered the box so Yugi could peer inside. Yugi saw the jagged edges of many gold pieces glittering in the dark. "What is this"  
Solomon set the lid back in place, and handed the box off to Yugi, with a warning glance to be careful. "It is a Puzzle, Yugi. From what the carvings say,  
this Puzzle contains the essence of the nameless Pharoah. Perhaps you will find some amusement putting the thing together, Yugi"  
Solomon's eyes sparkled with laughter. "Does this mean I can keep it?" Solomon nodded with a grin. "Of course. Just be very careful with it."

Yugi gave him a glowing smile, as he stared thoughtfully at the Puzzle. He felt drawn to it, somehow. 'Thanks, Grandpa!"

-

Yami felt the sudden shift that rattled the Puzzle to its shivering core, as he glared, quizzically at the shivering walls, in silent demand for an explanation. "What inspires so much fear that you openly acknowledge it in my presence?" The Puzzle did not answer imediately, but Yami felt the fear coiling in itself, as it searched for the words to appease its captor.

"We have changed hands, my king." The uncertain answer was offered up, hesitantly as Yami scowled.

"What do you mean by this?" The Puzzle wisely kept its rancor to itself, as it was most eager to rid itself of the formerly tormented Yami.  
"Your deliverance, my king." 


	16. The Corrupted

Author's Note: I am very sad to report that this is another violent chapter, but not a gory one. And, Yugi lovers will probably wish me to be tortured for my poor treatment of sweet little Yugi.  
I apologize for the choppy formatting, and the lack of spell check. I am typing this story out on two computers, and it's going to be extremely interesting to see how good the story will be after I merge the two into one. There are not two versions of this story, but later chapters I need to figure out how to weave together. I know that the last chapter was a violent one, and I apologize if I offend anybody. I am trying to explore different angles of this story, and presenting Yami as a struggling, flawed individual who I can relate is infinitely rewarding. I am so grateful to each one of you kind folks who reviewed this, and tolerated this so far. This has been therapy from God, and the distraction I need from my daily life thus far. There have been a few of you who have made some extremely perceptive comments on a few of my other fics that address the issues of spirituality.  
I thank you all for being brave enough to be honest with your oppinions, and to post them, or to email me and ask me what you want to know. To answer one question, I am balantly, committedly Christian, and I absolutely believe in the power of forgiveness because I have experienced it for myself. I have no other evidence to offer besides my own experience.

To answer one more question, I have no experience as a professional writer, but just a deep love for the written word and the hope that I may write professionally one day. I have taken quite a beating this year, but I have recieved the wake-up call to do something with my life besides just get through it. If any of you are going through that grinding experience now, or find yourselves in situations where you can relate to this story,  
my humble prayer is that you find strength and peace through it, and healing on the way out. I am slowly muddling my way through the process myself, and am more than willing to offer my humble support to anybody who needs it.

Also...concerning the appearance of Kaiba, and Bakura...I actually started a chapter where Yami and Seto meet in the real world, and it was so horrible that it was deleted. The Seth in this story is a completely different character from Seto Kaiba, even if he is the reincarnation in the manga.  
I haven't even attempted to write Bakura, (yet!) because I don't really know enough about him to come up with a story.  
If somebody really wants me to write a fic, they are free to request it. I am always looking for ideas. I am also interested in somebody being a beta reader, if they have the inclination, once I get my Internet back at my apartment...argh.  
Finally, on a closing note...there is definitely forthcoming chapters between Yami and Yugi, with lots of angst, and suffering and a bit of humor.  
I have no idea when, how, or if this story will end, but I can only promise that it will be a meaningful ending,but not necessarily a happy one.  
And, no, that is not a dark hint that I have an intention of stopping this story.

Yami's eyes narrowed in disbelieving scorn, as he slowly shook his head.

"You torment me again with this promise? When you know how it angers me so? Why is it that you shudder at the thought of my retribution, but you repeatedly ruminate over every old pain you have leached from my thoughts?" The Puzzle turned to ice, and Yami could feel its defenses curling up into frigid,  
fortified intention, as its next words slowly ripped off the scarred over flesh that Yami so bitterly resented.

"You cast yourself as being the noble, unwilling sacrifice. For the last few thousand years, I have put up with your tortured thoughts, and I have been forced to drink in your anguish in unyielding swallows, lest it consume you and you fall away into insanity, or darkness, my king. And, yes, my king,  
you are such a long suffering victim, who has bleated so long over the lack of his choices that you sound like a lost lamb surrounded by wolves. My king.  
did you ever consider the horrible fate that I have been bound to? You lament over your loss of freedom so bitterly taken by your own choices. My king,  
before you seek to punish me further, consider the fact that I had no choice in this at all." Yami's jaw dropped open at the revelation that was so unexpectedly vomited over his sacred truths, and he recoiled at the horrible possibility that the Puzzle-whom he considered to be nothing more than a prison, could have been as wounded as he.

Yami gulped, as he slowly lowered his hands, and called back the fire that radiated from his finger tips. The silence that came forth from the golden walls said far more than he ever wanted to know, as the Puzzle drank in the miserable silence, with a satisfaction that it concealed by a cloak of feigned despair.  
It knew that compassion for undeserved suffering was far more easy to manipulate in Yami than provoking his anger, and it made a concerted effort to restrain its glee at seeing Yami's face shift from cold suspicion to the unwilling acknowledgement that the Puzzle may have suffered along with him...at his own hands,  
as well.

"I was not aware of that...possibility." Yami muttered relunctantly. "You never spoke of this before." The Puzzle would have smirked in triumph had it the lips to do so, as it carefully weighed the right words to garner the most pity. "You never allowed yourself to consider the possibility before, my king."

Yami stiffened, as he felt the reverberating emotions of bizzarre relief, and unmistakeable malice rippling through him. His instincts flinched in harsh,  
sudden warning, and he restrained the rising fire that he summoned without thought to his fingers. He was not sure if it would be more advantagious to openly challenge the Puzzle, or to continue the charade of his compassion until he had more of an idea where this fresh manipulation was going. He opted for the second choice, as he steeled his face to conceal the rage. Forced compassion was indeed something he was never good at portraying convincingly.  
He suddenly felt very, very lucky that he had maintained the distancing scorn for those long years. It was far better for him to allow a bit of it to slough off now. He crossed both arms in a show of impatience, as he drew himself up to his full, less than formidable height. He cursed whichever god decided it would be so wonderous to make him so aggrivatingly short, but the irritation gave rise to even more convincing distain.

"You will forgive me if I did not entertain the possibility when you had me believe the lie that Isis tried to kill me, my father beat me, and that I had absolutely no hope of escaping this place. Were our situations reversed,what exactly would your reaction be?" Yami waited for the answer curiously.  
The Puzzle did not deem it necessary to reply, yet again. Yami found for once, he did not deem it necessary, either. As for the promise of deliverance,  
Yami grimaced with the realization that he could nothing more than wait for that as well.

The golden pieces felt vaguely warm again, and they shimmered in expectation, as Yugi sat at his desk, cupping the last two pieces with a grin.  
The Puzzle sat at the center of the desk, almost completed, the missing spaces where the pieces would go gaping like hungry mouths as Yugi gently slid the next to the last piece in with an expecting hush. After so many nights of fiddling with the thing, Yugi felt more relieved than anything else to finally have something else to divert his attention.

And, inside the Puzzle, Yami was struck by the sudden, unexplainable expectation that he sensed from the Puzzle's depths. Yami also felt the eerie, gentling tug against his spirit, and recalled vaguely the same sensation when Isis called him out of the Puzzle. But Isis was dead, and the Puzzle itself had never exercised power enough to free him, or at least place him "outside" its walls. Yami was certain that the horrible thing would have used that power against him long ago. Clearly, this kind summoning was coming from some other source than the Puzzle, and Yami did not trouble himself to speculate what that might be.

Yugi was startled to feel the Puzzle's slight movement, and was rewarded with the oddest feeling of a cat purring in pleasure as he carefully slid in the last piece. Yugi nearly fell from the overwhelming tidal wave of rapture that almost threatened his sanity, as he gave the Puzzle a crooked, drunken grin,  
swayed, and promptly, silently fainted.

Yugi missed the rush of wind, the hissing gold and the spirit and flesh and essence of the universe emptying itself into one golden shower of starlight as it filled the room, rising to the ceiling, casually bouncing away, and then swirling into bright oblivion. The shadows slurked back to their darkness,  
eagerly, revealing Yami's upright form, with both hands on his hips, and mouth open to deliver a profound speech about the Puzzle's wanton disregard, and his regal refusal for any mercy.

It was an amusing sight to see the Pharoah's shock, as he spun in wide-eyed confusion at the strange surroundings. Yami's eyes bulged with flummoxed realization as he saw the familiar bed, the strange glass box in the corner...and then his eyes fell upon the swooned form that lay serenely as a stone lamb sprawled as if he had fallen. Carefully, Yami crouched closer for a better view, drinking in the strange crown of spikes that the slumbering young man sported, noted the soft contours of his gently rounded face, the complete lack of threat from him, and the overwhelming resemblance he had to Yami.  
It was the same boy that had appeared in his strange delusion. But Yami could tell, just from the strange, fresh inocence, and the dizzying aftermath of being in the Puzzle one moment and finding himself standing out here. It was as different as being in a dark room then venturing out into the sunlight.  
Yami's shock turned to concern as he saw the young boy groan. Yami lurched backwards as he saw the eyelids flutter, but the boy only groaned and rolled over,  
his face pinched. Yami stared down at the boy,concern and fear warring over his face, and eyes narrowing to see the Puzzle clenched in the small hands. "What is the meaning of all this?" Yami barked in helpless confusion to the Puzzle. "Do you mean to tell me that this child was the means of my deliverance?!"

The Puzzle's only answer was a sinister chuckle of satisfaction, as it radiated gold, swathed over the child's body in a perverse covering. Yami watched in anguish as the child screamed, and instinctively writhed against the pain of his very being being sucked into the Puzzle's depths, leaving the small body flung aside as if it were worthless trash. It was then the Puzzle decided to answer Yami's question with a soft sneer.

"If this dear child was the means of your deliverance, he certainly will not be now, my king." Yami's jaw fell open in disbelief at such balant cruelty.

"He is an innocent child! What could you possibly gain by subjecting a complete stranger to your wrath? Are you so weakened that you can no longer fight against anything that has no chance against you?"

"My king, I am aware of my new limitations. Recall how I was witness to your brutal retribution against your former high priest Seth. The taint of his blood will never be cleansed from my bricks."

It was the sickening glaze that fell over the reddening eyes that alarmed the Puzzle. It was the shifting in his features, melting from concern and compassion to smug, hungry, corrupted curiosity. Yami smirked, eerily, as he crossed his arms, and turned casually to the Puzzle with the amused question:

"And it is a great act of wisdom to provoke me further by dragging an inocent into this? Do you sincerely believe that you will forstall my retaliation by holding a hostage against me?"

Yami allowed the smirk to grace his lips as he straightened in anticipation of the Puzzle's suddenly jarring uncertainty. "As you so astutely pointed out,if you believe me to be a depraved monster, should I not rejoice at the chance to subject an inocent target to my own power, so that I may see the result?"

Yami tilted his head, his face haloed in the waning light, his preditory eyes giving the boy a scathing, passing glance as he slid to stare at the Puzzle.  
"Or, maybe..." he began in a hiss, "you would prefer to bear witness to another one of my depraved acts? Seth once told me that killing was more pleasurable if you knew you could awe the audience into the spell of watching another bleed so helplessly. To be so free of the regards of confining morality. To act savagely with wanton disregard of the sacred. To consume the anguish until you're too sated to feel it yourself. Do you know how cleansing it felt to avenge myself against Seth? I never felt so free." His voice trailed off as he felt the Puzzle recoiling in paralyzed horror. The cursed thing had no regard for the inocent child still slumbering on obliviously, but to see the Pharaoh so eager to snuff out that life only confirmed the nagging truth that Yami corrupted was far more of a monster than any creation the Puzzle could ever hope to mimic.

Yami hunched over the sleeping child,offered the Puzzle a coy grin, as he waved a hand in mocking invitation. "You wish to watch my second kill? Tell me.  
Does it amuse you, or is this your sad attempt to live vicariously?" The Puzzle did not answer for a long moment, then offered up the rather shaking challenge.

"My king, if you kill this boy, you will truly be the monster you once tried so hard to restrain." Yami's smirk only grew, shifted into a teasing pout.

"And why would I restrain myself when I just told you how glorious this feels? You know, there was a time that I was once as inocent as this one laying before me. When I bled as a victim, and cried like the innocent do. Doing this allows me to severe that last tie to that time that I loathed to live through.  
This is necessary, do you see that?" Yami's voice was almost tender, as he swept a caressing hand over the sleeping boy's forehead.

"If you wish for mercy, then think of all the horror this boy will be spared from. The years he won't have to bear, the pain he'll escape."

Yami raised his hand, summoned the fire, arched one eyebrow in coy amusement as the flames roared forth from his splayed hands. With an enchanted, dazzled smile, he arched the churning inferno into a blazing dance of bueatiful pain, the gold and the red glittering from his scars and ordiments, and eyes. He flung arms wide in a perverse immitation of welcome as he beckoned the consuming flames to spread like wings and engulf the sleeping boy. There was a brilliant flare of light, as the Puzzle shrank back from the heat and the shadows that crept along its walls, longing for more, and lapping at Yami's corruption like starving dogs. Indeed, the sacrifice of the inocent seemed to burn as a perverse offering on the altars of intiquity, as flesh slowly turned to ash. There was no cry, no desperate scream of pain against the torture, nothing. The Puzzle sensed nothing of the boy's passing and was too blinded by the wall of flames to sense anything more than Yami's sick satisfaction. The flames were so vast now,that they concealed any view of him anyway.

-

Yami shivered in revulsion, and gasped to see the wall of flame, effectively falling as a curtain between him and the Puzzle just as he planned. He was trembling so much from the exhaustion of maintaining the illusion for that long that he almost dropped the precious bundle he cradled protectively in his arms. With a grunting heave, he hefted the sleeping boy higher in his arms, and forced himself onward through the spiraling darkness of the coridors, back to the one place of refuge he might be able to shelter himself and this poor victim until he gained the strength to end the Puzzle's existance once and for all. His head ached with so many troubled thoughts...how to spirit this boy back to his own world, how the child got ahold of the Puzzle, what would the retaliation be when the Puzzle discovered Yami's deception...He shook his head with a weary sigh. It was too much to think about now, and he was feeling the cloying exhaustion lapping at his heels. He set the boy down carefully, hesitantly placed a hand over the cool forehead, and could sense nothing amiss with him but the effects of the sleeping spell. Yami sighed again, in relief,as he braced himself and gathered the boy in his arms to continue his way.  
With a prayer for strength, Yami closed his eyes and envisioned the peaceful room where he had found the boy, hoping that it was enough. He felt the bizzare softness of carpet beneith his sandal, the refreshing coolness again, and he opened eyes to find himself encompassed by the pale white walls of the boy's room

With infinite care, Yami staggered forward, and carefully lay the boy down on the bed, leaving his hands over the shoulder, savoring and missing the solid feel of human skin. His mouth twisted in bittersweet memory at his own childhood, as he arranged the thick blue quilt around the small body. He paused to examine the boy for any injury he might have missed. There was not even a singed hair on his head. Yami templed a hand across his forehead, calling forth any memories of the horror and any aftermath that might linger, and was relieved to feel the pain to be slight compared to most. With a moment to brace himself, Yami called the pain back to his own core, and grimaced as he felt it reverberating through his fingers, and into his soul. It was almost too much.  
Yami nearly fell to his knees, and used the last of his rapidly wanning strength to stay upright as he wearily trudged back to the Puzzle. With one last glance to the boy, he whispered, "May you be spared."

Yami saw no use in lingering and prolonging his delay, and he had too little energy left to do any more for him anyway. Yami closed his eyes and emerged again into the golden bricks again. He gently lowered himself into a prone position, drew the cloak over his aching shoulders, and shivered in the dark. A single tear slid down one cheek as he tormented himself with the horrible thought of how very little of his corruption was an act of deception any more. 


	17. Chapter 19

His hands shimmered with the aftermath of the flames, his frame quivered under the burden of exuding so much power.  
He remembered nothing about how he returned to the familiar golden walls, or how he had crawled into its core to cast his cares away with a sleeping spell strong enough to induce a coma. And, yet, sleep was cruely elusive, and he felt nothing but his own body's plea for rest, and the Puzzle's silence. So, Yami found himself hunched over into a protective crouch,  
his hands laced tight over his knees, his cloak drawn up in an effort to make himself smaller. He stared for hours at his hands, mused about the fire that surged through their torpid veins, trying to reconcile the noble Pharoah who had sacrificed himself as an offering for his people, to the vicious monster who tore his own high Priest to shreds. Yami whimpered at the memory-not necessarily at the memories of that priest's last moments, but the overwhelming, sickening satisfaction that he felt. Yami supposed he could have justified it.

Yami absently ran a finger over the brutal scars that forever marred his flesh and felt his own lips twist into a snarl, unbiddingly. There was precious little evidence in his own existance that he had done anything to deserve his fate, either.And for all his fierce, regal pride that he was forced to maintain until it was both a fortress he could retreat to, and a habit he could not break, Yami knew, with sudden, tortured clarity, that none of it mattered, now. His hands were forever tainted with the blood of a victim. When he had the chance to show mercy, he relished the fear, the pain, the suffering, loved the dizzying, godlike power of severing an existance. Yami did not know if he was simply drunk on the power of the kill, or if the Puzzle had finally succeeded in making him a monster.

And all of his thoughts of justification crumbled under the horrible weight of that admission. Being stripped of his pretentions, and forced to face his own demons scared him far more than any manifestion the Puzzle could bring forth.  
And Yami shivered when he realized that the Puzzle was now spiraling back into itself, and quite hungry for a confrontation.

With a groan, Yami rose to his feet, crossed his arms over his chest, and narrowed his violet eyes in consideration as the Puzzle merged with its gold, and simply lingered in the air, drawing closer to Yami than he liked, but making no move to provoke him, more than usual. Yami was grateful for that. His defenses were far too weak, and he was still too heart-sick from his self-torture to mete out any more punishment or defend himself. And from the dangerous quiver that gripped his stomach, Yami was certain he wouldn't be able to, anyway.

He could feel the Puzzle relishing his vulnerablilty, and he winced as he felt the teasing glide brushing besides his mental shields like a cat might, as he fought the sudden urge not to cry out from the frustration.

"My king." The Puzzle's silken delivery began, as Yami stiffened, but did not visably flinch.

Yami simply stared, raising an eyebrow in inquiring challenge. "Yes?"

The Puzzle gave a particularly vicious blow to one vulnerable weakness in his shield, and Yami bit his lip to choke down the resulting pain that reverberated through his being. It felt like a gong might feel after a hard strike.

"You are far too weakened from your illusions to even attempt to protect yourself now, and we both know it. Do not mock me by pretending my suprise blow did not cause you a great deal of suffering. I have had over a thousand years to know how to hurt you."

Yami's face contorted as the Puzzle hit even harder. His rib throbbed, and from the tingling, warm wet that was trickling down his throat,  
he could feel the scar was reopened and bleeding.

"You will desist this imediately." Yami gave a majestic growl as he drew himself up, though he knew that he would no longer be able to stand in a few moments.

He could feel the insidious gnawing of the Puzzle's subtle attack against him, biting here and there, stripping away a bit more of his essence the way a hungry rat might consume him one piece at a time. The Puzzle seemed to pay his order no heed, and Yami simply had no strength to retaliate.

He did not know that saving the child would mean that he would be sacrificing himself all over again.

"My king, you amuse me, with your lofty intentions. Do you realize that you are now being punished for saving the life of that child?  
Had you honored your own darkness, you would be delighting in the victory of an easy kill, not almost falling on your knees and fighting the urge to plead for mercy."

Yami's lip curled in dismissal, as he opened his mouth to reply in regal scorn. The Puzzle glittered with malice as it drew back its hungry maw in expectation.

Yami felt the horrible sliding of his soul as it recoiled into the darkest recesses of his mind. The Puzzle was steadily clawing at his defenses, by then, and Yami shuddered at the invasion.

The Puzzle felt Yami's pain, drank it in as affirmation, flung open its own resources wide, and prepared to beat the weakening Pharoah into submission.

Yami felt the brutal blow against his shield, and he cringed to feel it shatter like glass, the shards fragmenting and cutting away at his spirit. He felt the Puzzle's victory, its glee, as he staggered like a wounded animal, and brought trembling hands to his head, unable to speak, unable to cry, or plead, as he felt the darkness rising to claim him.

. Every memory that he had ever lived through had been called forth by the Puzzle, each one clinging to his tortured soul for audience, as his mind was flooded with too much sensation and pain and dizzying chaos to maintain any of it. The Puzzle watched as Yami's fingers splayed uselessly, the fire instinctively rising without the consent or the control of its master, as the flames shot forth, only to sputter and die into pathetic wafts of smoke

He heard the Puzzle laugh at the sad display, and Yami's eyes were filled with tears at the humilation and the shame from losing control of his most basic self-protection, as the Puzzle happily tore through him.

"Very, very pretty fireworks, my king. If that spell was from an infant, it would be the equivalent of soiling one's self, would it not?" The Puzzle whispered sarcastically, as Yami's cheeks flamed in humilation, and helpless tears coursed down his cheeks.

The Puzzle's only answer was a mocking caress against his cheek, as Yami shuddered and tried to jerk his face away. The Puzzle noted with satisfaction the tremble of fear as Yami closed his eyes and desperately tried to block out the sickening violation of his soul.

It was to no avail.

Yami felt the fire against his scars, and he brought a shaking hand to his throat with a cry, as he sank to his knees, the tears openly flowing, mingling with the blood, and dribbling down his once white tunic, as the Puzzle gleefully continued inflicting its shards across his soul, as he shuddered, and sobbed, and clawed at his temples in a futile gesture to make the pain stop.

The torture may have continued for hours, or years, as the poor Pharoah lay suspended in the womb of agony, with no release or respite from the continual dark pain, and the crushing sensation against his mind.

The Puzzle paused for a brief moment, happily noting Yami's broken, wailing sobs, as the Pharoah only babbled incoherently in a heaved out plea...

"No more of this...please...no more..."

And the Puzzle stopped its torment, if only in preparation for another round. Yami sent a desperate plea to the waiting shadows, and found himself swooning into the dark. 


	18. The Recoil Of Time

Author's Note: I almost cringed when I first posted this chapter, partially because it is so AU, and also because it is the first chapter of A Proud and Bitter Crown that I wrote that didn't practically scream Yami abuse. I also know that it is a rather confusing story line, that meanders back and forth between Yami's time in the Puzzle, and Yami's out. To recap, and hopefully have less confusion, Yami has already been out of the Puzzle once. It happened right after Yugi put the Puzzle together, and accidently dropped it. That was covered in the "Cruelty of the Innocent.' chapter. Yami was almost killed and the Puzzle was pretty wounded as well.

The "Recoil of Time" covers Yami's experience after he pays his last visit to Isis, and his first real conversation with Yugi. This was not written orginally as a humor fic, and I don't know how well it fits with the rest of the whole "angst/hurt/comfort" mode. But, I was sort of hoping to flesh out how Yami sees the modern world, and this is my poor attempt at it. I hope that you enjoy it. And, yes, for those of you who were craving more Yami abuse, you will be delighted with the upcoming chapter Fracture, that will make your teeth ache. And, after the gore of the "Retribution" chapter, I thought we could all use a bit of a lighter subject.. Yugi was actually difficult to write as a character, because he's sweet and kind to the point of being a saint-somebody that I really have no ability to connect with. And, for Seto fans, I will be updating "The End of All Things," very soon. This is not really what I would consider a "fluffy" fic, but I leave that up to the reader to decide!

e Recoiling of Time--

It had been three days since Yugi had that disturbing dream-something about the Puzzle growing teeth, and gold blades flaying his flesh, were it not for that strange lookalike who threw himself in front of that glittering arsenal, and sacrificed himself so that Yugi may live on, obliviously. The dream had been so unnerving-so life-like, that Yugi left the Puzzle in the golden box, too scared of it to actually take it out, and even nervous about having it in his room. Now, Yugi lay burrowed deeply in his quilts, shivering, and achy from a sinus infection that left him too ill to go to school. His head was on the verge of exploding, his clogged nostrils were bleeding from his constant nose-blowing, and his throat felt as if he had swallowed a Brillo pad. Miserable and bored, he reached for another tissue and blew, tossing it into the overflowing litter basket by his bed.

With a sigh, he wrapped himself in a blanket draped over his shoulders as he slid on his slippers and moved to his desk. With a raised eyebrow, he opened the drawer, then, after a moment's decision, carefully, almost timidly lifted the golden box out and set it with reverence on the desk.

It had been a niggling thought he had purposely ignored over the last few days, but now, with nothing but an illness to occupy himself, or the homework, Yugi opted for the more interesting of the two. He flinched again at the warmth that seemed to permeate from the depths of the curving spiral carved on the lid. He grimaced at his carelessness of allowing that one corner piece to be chipped off when he accidently dropped the Puzzle. He had slid it back into place, but he still recoiled when he heard-or thought he heard- that piercing shriek of blinding pain from the Puzzle itself. That was three days ago. He remembered nothing after he fixed the corner piece except waking up the next morning covered with a strange, white slash of a healed over scar that went from ear to ear. It caused no pain, and he would not have even noticed it if he hadn't run his fingers over the strange raised flesh, and gaped at it with disbelieving eyes in the mirror. He knew of nothing that could leave such a mark on his skin-the cut was easily from ear to ear, and he would certainly remember something that left that sort of evidence behind. At the time, he had written it off as nothing more than a delusion brought about by his fever. The scar had disappeared after he slid in the corner piece, and unless he was losing his mind, he was quite happy to leave it at that.

Yugi gripped the Puzzle, turning it over and over on its glittering sides, running careful fingers over the Eye of Horus, mindful of the blade-sharp points that could severe a finger if he wasn't careful. "Well, Puzzle. You aren't quite as lively as you were a few days ago. Maybe it was just a weird dream, huh?"

Yugi shook his head in mockery of himself. "Not as weird as me talking to an inaninment object, though, is it?" He set the Puzzle down, and crossed his arms, with a smile. "Is there anybody in there? Helllooooo!" His voice, high and long, soared through the room, as he rapped his knuckles on the side of the Puzzle. He looked down, almost angry at himself for being disappointed. The Puzzle did nothing, for a minute. Yugi gave the golden corner one last tap with a finger tip, and pulled it away when he felt the corner once again cut into his finger. He yelped in irritation and shoved the bleeding digit into his mouth. "Why do I keep cutting myself on that thing?" He groused, as he huffed off to the bed, pulling the sheets back and

looking forward to its welcoming comfort. The small rivulet of blood slid down the Puzzle's side, ignored, patiently waiting. Yugi gave the Puzzle one last glare before dirtying another tissue, and tossing it away. He drew the blankets over his shoulder, curled up on his side, and waited to drift off to sleep.

It was either the blinding flash of light, or feeling as if his very soul was being sucked from his bones that caused him to bolt awake, and drop to the floor in disoriented panic. Yugi frantically whipped his head around towards the ceiling, to see if one of the lights had flickered and died, but to his dismay, he noticed that the lights had not even been turned on. He felt what seemed like a rush of wind-eerie, but pleasant, float across his soul and then, the bizarre, but pretty golden shower that erupted from the Puzzle in one long flow of pure light before it reverted back to its muted, dead bronze. Yugi gaped in shock to see the shadows in the room bend, curl, and roll away from the Puzzle, and then the last of the golden light solidify to a transparent, radiating form that slowly shimmered into view. Yugi scuttled backwards as he saw the form's flesh shift from shadow to a more familiar skin tone. The figure crouched, arms and knees braced together in a ball, and Yugi could hear the frantic pace of breath being sucked in and out of clenched teeth, but that was all he could make out.

"Um...hello?" Yugi ventured out of bewildered curiosity, as he slowly rose to his feet, and quickly draped a robe over his small shoulders. The figure twitched in visible alarm, before daring to raise its head above the cocoon of its crossed arms. Yugi heard a puzzled grunt, saw an eye open in a panicked glance, before the head buried itself deeper into its arms. It was the bone-rattling tremor that drew Yugi closer. Strange as the situation was, he did understand fear.

"Hey..."he whispered softly, as he dropped to what he hoped was a non-threatening crouch. "I'm not going to hurt you. You have nothing to be afraid of." He flung his arms open in a welcome, and smiled.

He was rewarded by the figure uncurling its arms, and slowly rising. Emerging from the dark corner, Yugi could see the glittering spikes of gold and red and black, the drape of blond over wide and churning violent eyes, a stern, regal mouth trembling with amazed fear, and slender, but muscular arms bracing themselves against narrow hips, as the head tilted in consideration. The figure strode forward with deliberate steps, and Yugi gasped to see the familiar face of his look-alike again. He was even more shocked to see the figure clad in a set of silk blue pajamas like his own.

"It's you! The person from my dream! You're real, after all? What are you doing here?" The figure stiffened at the strange sound of another human voice, and his eyes widened in astonishment, as he did not answer, but only stared at Yugi with an open mouth, before coiling his eyebrows upward, and firmly shutting his mouth. Apparently, what errupted from Yugi's mouth was nothing but gibberish, because the stranger did not reply, but only stared at Yugi in wary consideration. There was silence for long moments, as Yugi watched the stranger gaze around his room, with curiosity, but no alarm.

"Hello!" Yugi gave him a bright smile, as he waved the exaggerated greeting with both hands. Yami raised a regal eyebrow even higher. Was the boy swatting a fly, or was this the customary greeting of his people? Not wanting to appear hostile, Yami awkwardly flung his arms wide, mimicked the wide arc Yugi had did, and stumbled out the strange word, in a slow, grating heave. "Helllloooo." Yami prayed that was the correct response. Even the word itself sounded alien and strange.

Yugi's smile grew to radiating, and Yami was relieved to see the genuine friendliness that seemed to burble forth from him. He could detect no evil in this boy, but this situation was so novel, that he could muse over that threat later.

"So, you can speak? How did you get here? What is your name?" Yami listened, not understanding the words, but watching the boy with his flying arms gesturing in excitement. Yami shrugged and shook his head. With one finger raised, he tapped his lips, and pointed to Yugi in negation. "I offer my most humble apologies, sir. But I do not understand your language. I hope that I do not appear to be impolite." Yami said solemnly, with a bow. Yami watched as the bright grin fell, to be replaced by a polite, and confused smile.

"I'm sorry. I guess I don't speak...whatever language that was. Hmm, that might be a problem..." Yugi's voice fell to murmuring as he looked around the room, to see if there was anything that might help him communicate with the stranger. The stranger's voice was cold, but polite, and his bow only made him more weird to Yugi. The stranger watched Yugi with interest, his eyes following him as he paced back and forth. Yami was growing frustrated by the language barrier. He did understand that the gibberish this boy had babbled was indeed a language, and from the mannerisms, he was asked several questions. It was all Yami could do to choke down a snort of howling laughter at how ridiculous it sounded. Plus, Yami had to allow the humbling thought that maybe his own native Egyptian sounded just as strange to the boy's ears. He was assuming that the boy had no way of knowing that he was a Pharoah, or that he had emerged from the Puzzle.

It was obvious that the boy wanted to communicate as much as Yami wished to. That, combined with his friendliness-unless it proved false- was indeed a hopeful sign. Yami took a step forward, with a polite, "May I direct your attention to me, sir?" The boy stopped his rummaging through the various things in the chest in the corner, and looked at Yami, questioningly. Yami sighed, considering the best way to talk to this boy. The boy looked at him, his eyes bright, and his smile growing larger. Yami offered a quizzical smile in return, as he pointed a finger to his chest and spoke in a clear voice, "I am Yami, Pharaoh of Egypt."

There was no response from Yugi except that same tolerant smile. Yami shook his head, curled his lips at dropping his formal title, and simply settled for tapping his chest again, and speaking, "Yami."

Yugi's eyes lit up, and he stepped forward, raising his own finger to gesture towards him. "Yami?" His voice was refreshingly sweet and soft, which brought forth a genuine grin from Yami, as he nodded vigorously. "Yes! Yes, that is my name, Yami! Very good!"

Yugi jabbed a thumb towards his chest, and blurted out in enthusiasm, " I'm Yugi Moto! Nice to meet you!" And he extended a friendly hand in greeting. Yami winced and scuttled backwards instinctively, remembering old pains that came about from other hands. Yugi was left eyeing his own outstretched hand awkwardly, before glancing at the Pharoah in suprise. Yami forced himself out of his protective crouch, to see the boy's cheeks flaming in embarrassment. Yami felt slightly ashamed of himself when he saw that the boy was offering another greeting. He gave Yugi's hand a wary glance, but bit his lip and thrust his own forward. He only hoped that the boy was perceptive enough to repeat his name. Yami was unable to decipher that the whole string of words was a salutation, and not Yugi's actual name. Yugi timidly clasped his hand and shook it, waiting for Yami to release his hand. Yami just watched the boy shake his hand up and down, with an impatient eye darting back and forth from his hand to Yugi, as he wondered how long the boy intended to pump his arm. Yami sighed. He sincerely hoped that the boy did not expect him to repeat his name. Ra knew it was an unintelligible mouthful he was afraid to even attempt to pronounce.

Yugi relinquished his hand, trailing off into uncomfortable silence.

"_It's a real shame we don't speak the same language. That would make getting some answers to his questions so much easier,_" mused Yugi as he crossed his arms over his pajamas.

The stranger-Yami- Yugi hastily corrected himself, pivoted sharply, with a gasp, as he narrowed his eyes at Yugi.

"If we do not speak the same language, sir, then how is it that I was able to understand what you said with perfect clarity?" Yami spoke the question sternly, his sharp chin jutting forward in expectation of a quick answer.

"I believe that you mean no harm, but I do not respond well to being deceived about your ability to speak Egyptian-which you just did. Again, I ask you, sir. What is your name?"

Poor Yugi's eyes seemed to be in danger of popping out of their sockets as he groped for a possible explanation as to why Yami was standing over him and babbling in irritation about...something.

"Umm...is there something wrong? I'm sorry if I angered you, but I really don't know exactly what it would be." Yugi ventured, as he shrugged. Yami's eyes narrowed menacingly, as he folded his arms.

_So this child wishes to play games with me? Or is this even a child? Isis said that I was to be released from the Puzzle, but what if this is just another of its tricks? I can't sense anything amiss here, and this young one seems to be genuinely harmless, aside from this appalling language he was cursed to speak. Sweet Ra, what will I do if this is the extent of his linguistics?_

"Hey! I am not playing games and I will have you know that I am certainly not a child!" The high-pitched and perturbed bellow that came from Yugi caught Yami by suprise, as Yugi drew to his full diminutive height and gave Yami a masterful scowl that could rival his own.

_Who is he to call me a child? He is the one who's acting childish! First he pops up in my room without an invitation, makes fun of my speaking, and then accuses me of playing games?_

Yugi huffed in annoyance, as he stared up at Yami.

"Normally, I don't say this to strangers, but you are really out of line, and downright rude. Do you know that?" Yugi emphasized his point with a jab of his finger in Yami's direction.

Yami backed away, shamefaced, and very uncertain of how to handle a tongue-lashing from somebody so unexpected.

_Sir, you are right. My manners have been appalling, and I do apologize._

Yugi glared, as he pouted, "I don't get it. First you call me a child, then you call me sir. Why don't you just call me Yugi like everyone else?"

Yami, however, was not paying attention to Yugi's tirade. Thoughtfully, he said aloud, "Will you tell me your name, please? It is only fitting if you find 'child' and 'sir' irritating."

Then, he thought the same statement, without voicing it. Yugi's mind blurted out the extremely rude, _Idiot._

From the flinch of hurt across Yami's face, Yugi realized with sudden guilt that the look-alike was able to sense _that_ loud and clear. Yami just looked at him, in wounded surprise, before allowing the cold, distant mask to morph his features into polite indifference.

_My apologies, sir, for irritating you. I am obviously an intrusion and a bother to you, and will try to rectify this situation as soon as I find out how._

Yugi mentally berated himself, before the astonishing realization came to him.

_Wait!_

Yami glanced at him over his shoulder, in guarded curiosity. Yugi threw his hands up in frustration, as he groped for the words. _We can read each other's thoughts, but we can't understand what we say to each other aloud. Is this true?_

Yami nodded, slowly, pondering.

_Okay...this is weird. This whole thing is weird. I mean, I wake up and find you here, and then start an argument._

Yami opened his mouth to reply, but Yugi just waved it away, rushing onward,_ Not of course, that I am not glad that you're here. I just don't know who exactly you are, or why you are here in the first place. Look..."_

Yugi sighed, and looked down._ I...I'm sorry for being rude. I know that you probably didn't mean anything by it, but people have picked on me all my life for being short, and it's just an issue I have. I look a lot younger than I actually am, I know. But, for future reference, I would really, really like it if you didn't call me anything besides Yugi, okay?_

"Yuuu-gi?" Yami mouthed the word, uncomfortably, but was relieved to see the encouraging nod and the light return to the boy's eyes.

"Yes. Yugi is my name. Good job." Yami's brow furrowed in confusion and Yugi thought the statement.

_Now,_ Yugi thought with a sly grin to Yami. _Suppose you tell me exactly where you came from, and how you came to my room._

Yami gave him a sad nod. _ I will try to answer your questions to the best of my ability. But, you will find my answers less than satisfactory, I'm afraid._

The hours passed all too quickly, as Yugi sat in rapt attention listening to Yami's tale until the sun rose, and the fresh sky pinked with the dawn. Yami was interrupted several times by Yugi's apologies, as he hacked and blew his nose into a tissue. Yami did not seem offended in the least, and gave him a sympathetic smile each time. He had been laid low a few times with a nasty cold, and he was well acquainted with the unpleasantries of it. It was oddly reassuring to see that

such an affliction could still remain in this strange new world he was in. He found Yugi to be a remarkably attentive listener, never interrupting except to ask Yami to explain what he did not understand. For the most part, Yugi sat in silent contemplation, accepting the story as astonishing, but true.

Yami, however, felt the need to sanitize a few key truths about his past. He said nothing about his murder, and only vaguely hinted at the fact that he was dead. Yugi seemed to be a perceptive sort, but there was probably a limit to possibilities he was willing to accept.. There was no way for him to truly explain what he did not understand himself. Yami honestly did not think he could handle the attempt to put into words what he could barely think of without wanting to break down into sobs. So, he expounded with pride on the glories of Egypt, the bueaty of his homeland, and his friendship with Isis.

Yami stopped when he saw the quirk of a grin widen Yugi's lips, as he snickered, mysteriously.

_May I ask what you find so hilarious about my country's history,Yugi?_

Yugi's teasing grin only grew as he put a knuckle over his lips to keep the laughter from spilling out.

_Yami...can I ask you a question? _Yami nodded, solemnly.

_This Isis lady... _

Yami scowled, and groused,_ Lady Isis. _ He corrected, irritably._ You should always address a woman with respect, even if she is not in this present company._

_Fine, Lady Isis_ Yugi thought with sarcastic emphasis, and a wag of his fingers in quotations.

_Was she your girlfriend?_

Yami manged to look both confused, and annoyed with equal majesty. _Yugi, I thought I made it clear that Isis is a lady, not a girl. However, if you mean that she was both a female, and a friend, I would have to answer yes to both._

Yugi snickered, again. _Okay, Yami. However you want it._

Yami stared at him, eyes narrowed once again. _However do I want what?_

Yugi just laughed and shook his head. _Sorry, Yami. So, what happened to her?_

From the sharp, sudden pain that twisted Yami's features, Yugi instantly regretted asking the question.

_She is gone. _ Came the flat, dead reply, as Yami looked away.

_Oh._ Yugi's answer was sympathetic, and kind. _ I'm sorry. I didn't know._

Yami shrugged in answer,but could not keep the sad longing out of his voice.

_It is alright, Yugi. There is no conceivable way that you could have known that. I apologize for burdening you with my problems, as well. It's just that...I do not know anything about this time that I find myself in. I do not know the customs, the language, or even where exactly I am..._

"Japan!" Came the cheery answer from Yugi, as he clamoured to his feet, and was already flinging his numerous objects around to retrieve the stuff he wanted.

_You are in Japan. And the year is..._ Yugi happily supplied the information to poor Yami who looked as if he had swallowed something very unpleasant.

_That's...oh Ra! _ Yami cried, after his mental calculations were done. _I have been in that Puzzle for five eons?! That would certainly explain the odd things in this room, and your language. And, I have never heard of Japan, Yugi. Is that the name of your homeland?_

_Yes. Umm, it's the country you're in now. I think you'll like it here, once you get used to it. But, I don't think it's anything like ancient Egypt. I mean, you probably don't have running water in your houses, or even flushing toilets, do you?_

Yami raised a distainful eyebrow, with a regal huff._ Only a fool would build his house where running water could sweep it away, Yugi. Your house seems solidly built, but if it is in a flood plane, you may be in for quite a bad soaking if you do not move._

Yugi shook his head with a hand clapped over his mouth to hide the giggle he instinctively knew Yami would find in bad taste. _No, no, Yami. Not running water like a river, running water that you wash your hands in, and flush the toilet with. You know...from a facet? Did you have bathrooms in Egypt, or what?_

Yami raised both eyebrows now, as he peered down at Yugi. _As Pharoah, I had a private bathing chamber where my servants would draw water and fill a basin for me to wash. I will have you know that I bathed three times a week! As for this...toilet and ...fac---facet? I have never heard of such devices._

"Oh." It was a small astonished admission from Yugi's mouth as he smiled again. _I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that you didn't take baths. You look clean to me! But, you have to remember, Yami...this is modern day Japan. Most people here take baths at least once a day. I take a shower every morning just to wake up. I guess it would be a bit confusing if you never had indoor plumbing before. Oh, one more thing. We don't have 'bathing chambers,' any more._

_It's usually just called a bathroom. Umm...you don't have to use it, do you?_

Yami stared at him, uncertainly. _I am sorry, I do not understand. What would I need to use?_

_The..the bathroom, Yami. You don't need to...go, do you? _Yugi cringed when he saw Yami shrug, and gesture, an obvious demand for more of an explanation.

_Do you wish me to leave, Yugi? Do people send their visitors to these bathrooms when they are finished with them?_

Yugi sighed, waved a hand in negation, as he put his face in his hands in frustration. "This is going to be more complicated than I thought..."

_Yami, I'm not sending you anywhere, and I don't want you to leave. I was asking you if you needed to use the bathroom. That's what we say when we ask_

_somebody if they need to...um...you know._

From the hopelessly lost look on Yami's face and the scrutinizing gaze in his eyes, Yami was completely missing what Yugi was hinting at, and Yugi was far too embarassed to elaborate more than necessary.

_How about I just show you the bathroom? I'm sure you can figure it out from there...I hope._ Yugi offered meekly, as he got off the bed, and led the way.

It was truly the most bizzarre experience in Yugi's life, to introduce a 5000 year old Egyptian king to the most rudimentary knowledge of the modern world, but he was immensely relieved to see that Yami was not only accepting of his new situation, but also able to adapt admirably. The Egyptian had an insatiable curiosity of the new world around him, but prefered to observe Yugi in action and attempt things for himself than demand lengthy explanations that Yugi did not feel he was able to give. Yugi was immensely grateful for that. It was far easier to teach Yami that flicking the light switch made the "glass torches" go on and off as he needed, and that the facet could 'draw forth' clean water than it was to elaborate on indoor plumbing and electricity. The toilet proved to be a profound mystery to Yami, who just did not seem to grasp the concept of anything more complex than a chamber pot and a servant simply emptying the contents.Yugi had wrinkled his nose in sympathy for the poor servant. Thankfully, being a spirit, Yami did not seem to be bound by the basic needs of the rest of humanity.

It was a humbling experience for Yami, as well. While it was engrained into his heart to be just, courteous, and exceedingly polite to all-being royalty, he had little experience, and even less need to attend to daily activities. Food was simply brought to him when he requested it. His clothes were always freshly washed, and his servants were always there to assist with whatever tedious thing demanded his attention. While Yami would never admit it to Yugi, or to anybody else-his pampered existance, and his insulated status as a prince isolated him largely from the way that those "beneith him" lived. Yami, of course, would never confess aloud that he believed that servants were somehow less in status because of Ra's favor on the Pharoah. But, it was disconcerting to find himself in a dwelling with far more riches than his whole palace, and yet only house Yugi and his aformentioned grandfather. Fresh, warm water drawn each day on command? Lights at the flick of a switch, rather than the torches in their bronze sconzes? This was truly magical.Yami was awed to hear that almost all of the modern people lived in such dwellings, except for the extremely poor.

Yugi apologetically sneezed into a tissue, and tossed it away with a yawn, after giving Yami a tour of the house.

_I'm really sorry, Yami. But I need to get back to sleep. I'm busy fighting this sinus infection, and I need to get some rest if I want to feel better. I hope you don't mind._

Yami gave him a polite nod._ Of course, Yugi. I am sorry for keeping you away from your rest. Thank you for your patience in teaching me these things._

Yugi yawned louder, ran a hand through his tousled hair. _ I'm sorry I am not much for company right now. Maybe you want to watch tv?_

Seeing Yugi's exhaustion, and not wanting to put him through another lengthy session of the virtues of modern technology, Yami nodded, meekly.

_Only if it is not a burden for you to perform, Yugi. You clearly need your rest._

Yugi chuckled. _No, it's not a 'burden.' All I have to do is turn it on. It will keep you from getting bored, and it will definitely give you a taste of modern life._

_Give me a second, okay?_

Yami's eyes followed him, in incomprehension. He was not sure if Yugi actually wanted him to give him something, or...what?

Yugi lay a reassuring hand on Yami's shoulder. _Look. I know that this is really, really strange to you. I can only imagine what it's like to go from ancient Egypt to modern Japan, away from everything you know and all the people you love. But I will help you through this, alright? You don't have to be afraid, this modern stuff isn't that hard to figure out, once you get used to it. _

Yami was nearly in tears again, but from gratitude. _Thank you, Yugi. Thank you so much._

Yugi blushed, and turned his attention towards the object before him. Yami stood transfixed at the familiar glass orb in the wooden box.

_Now..._

Yugi squatted and gestured towards the television, and pointed out the various buttons. He would save the remote control for another time.

_Umm...this button makes the tv turn on._ The tv screen roared to life, and both the boys were treated to a lion baring its gaping maul in a loud snarl.

Yami bolted in front of Yugi, thrust him behind his back, and crouched as he summoned the glittering orbs of energy to his and Yugi's defense. Yugi watched in amazement as Yami strode forth, quite ready to do battle with the lion.

_YAMI! Calm down, I'm sorry! That...that lion won't hurt you, it's just on the tv._

_Yugi, get behind me! That cat is ready to spring! _ The Pharoah's shrill cry of alarm was punctuated as he stood resolute in the white glow of the tv. Yugi tried very hard not to howl in laughter at Yami's poor confusion when he hastily changed the channel to something less threatening.

Yami cocked his head to the side in amazement to see the lion's image vanish with a punch of the button, only to be replaced by a children's television show consisting of a puppet horse, a talking toilet, and a clown with a red wig and flapping shoes.

_What...in the name of Ra is this? Do you mean to tell me that your sanitary necessities such as toilets also sing?! _ Yami watched the clown, and seemed on the verge of passing out in fear. Indeed, he seemed more afraid of the clown than the lion. (Author's note: I hate clowns with a passion. They scare the hell of me!)

Yami watched as Yugi burst out with a loud guffaw, and shook with laughter until the tears came from his eyes, and he was left quivering and out of breath.

_Oh, Yami! I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you, honest! The stuff on tv? It's not real. That lion was just on the nature channel. The stuff you see on the screen won't hurt you. See?_ He tapped the glass for emphasis, poking the singing clown in the eye. _It's not real. It's just moving pictures. See this button here?_

_If something bothers you, you can change the channel, or just turn it off. Now, if you don't mind, I need to get some sleep. Why don't you watch some television and relax? Come and get me if you need me, okay? I'll be up in my bedroom. _

With a pat on Yami's shoulder, and one more yawn, Yugi lumbered his way back to the comfort of his bed, leaving Yami staring, completely flummoxed at the television. He could not understand any of the language, but from the continous applause, and the overwhelming number of young children in the audience, the strange performance was for their entertainment. He shuddered, as he tapped the screen, almost timidly. He found the clown to particularly terrifying. Maybe it was the exagerated mannerisms, or the fact the the clown wore a mask that hid his true intentions. Yami was always leery of those who hid themselves behind masks.

And he knew that masks came in all forms. And, to see that flapping toilet's jaw burst forth into song? Considering the poor object's fate in life, Yami could hardly consider that existance anything charming enough to sing about. He mused what exactly his own reaction would be if he heard a melody suddenly springing up from his chamber pot, and decided it was just too much of a strange and useless contemplation to bother with. With a sigh, he pushed the button, to change the channel.

The next channel popped into view, and Yami was first amazed to hear the hypnotic thump of the music, and then to see several women in extremely bright and tight outfits bouncing around in unison in time to the music. One lady barked out command after command as she bent and stretched in the front row. Yami watched them raise their ankles to their faces with eerie smiles, and he winced at their contortions. He had never seen arobics before. He allowed himself a few more minutes of viewing, finding this channel to be much more interesting than the lion, or the clown. Then, he hastily changed the channel when he found himself staring too hard, feeling both guilty and unclean. _That _ was certainly a thought he did not need to be indulging in at the moment, however pleasant the distraction may be. Yami kept his finger on the channel button. His eyes bulged to see the swirling colors dance across the screen, their fragmented forms disolving into multicolored dots, the electronic buzz somehow soothing. Yes, here was a thing he could control, and it pleased him mightily. Even the dizzying array of distraction got boring after a while, though. With a sigh, Yami switched the television off, and rose to his feet, to examine his surroundings. He meandered over to the fireplace-pleased to note that this was something he was familiar with, and gazed abscently at the row of pictures that adorned the mantle. His eyes misted over when he saw the various stages of Yugi's life-toddling around with that bueatiful inocent smile, happily waving at the camera while hoisted high on the shoulders of the beaming, squant elderly gentleman, who cradled Yugi with obvious love. Yami almost missed the eerie sensation that rippled through him when he glanced at the photograph. With a gasp, he

saw himself peering into the beloved face of his own mentor, Shimon! Granted, the garb was odd, and his hair was swathed in a strange cloth, but everything-from the kind, violet eyes, to the grey hair and steadying arms-was Shimon. It was undeniable. Yami furrowed his brow, in wonder. Was it possible that Shimon was the promised aid from Isis? The Priest had always been fond of his young prince, indulging what he could with kindness, and stopping what he could not with a stern talk, and no more. Shimon had acted as Yami's grandfather in the abscence of his own father. Next to Isis, and his father, Shimon was one of the few people that Yami trusted without reservation, or fear.

And, it warmed his heart to see a friend across the span of so much time. _Two of them. _Yami thought with a smile.

Yami resolved to ask Yugi about his grandfather when he woke from his slumber, but opted to let the ill boy rest. It gave him a much needed chance to piece together some co-herent understanding of his new situation. Yami moved from his crouch on the floor to the long, soft furniture piece Yugi called a "couch,"

and draped his body across the cushions, sighing in contentment to feel both the velvet softness against his cheek, and the rare, sweet feeling of being safe. _What a luxurious marvel,_ Yami mused, with a yawn. _It is almost as soft as the silk of home. I wonder if I will ever see my country again..._

Yami's thoughts drifted languidly as he fell asleep.

Yugi rose from a fitful nap, feeling oddly refreshed. He was delighted to find that his nostrils had cleared somewhat, and the cloying ache in his limbs had dulled to a tolerable level. Yawning, stretching, he slid his feet into his royal blue slippers, and tied his robe at the waist over his pajamas. Yugi padded down to the kitchen to make himself a hot cup of tea, down another swallow of his nasty cough medicine, and check on Yami. Yugi barely supressed the giggle to see Yami sprawled out on the couch, his head hanging over the side, and his mouth open in a roaring snore. With a shake of his head, Yugi gently manuvered Yami to lay flat on the couch, and covered him in a blanket, before going into the kitchen. He returned a short while later with two cups of hot tea, the steaming liquid and the honey filling the room with a wonderful aroma. He set them down on the side table with a soft clink. Yami groaned, and rolled over on his stomach before curling his legs to his chest, with a whimper. Yugi turned at the sound of his distress, and watched with growing alarm as Yami's face abruptly tensed as if he were in pain, as his hands curled uselessly at his throat. His whole body jerked in rebellion against something, Yami's hand smacked loudly against the side table. Yugi watched, helplessly, as the cup of burning tea overturned and splashed, most of it cascading down the side of Yami's face and hair.

_Poison! please, not again..._ Blind, searing panic pounded through Yami's skull, the instinct to flee and hide and the overwhelming fear of _it_ happening again

propelled Yami to leap off the couch with a shrill cry, as he landed in a tangled heap of sticky tea, wet blankets, and a very hard floor. Yami held his face in his hands for long moments, closing his eyes against the onslaught, waiting for the panic to stop sending him into such a weak, shaking fit.

It was the stunned, apologetic noise from the corner of the room that garnished his attention first. Yami slowly pulled the blanket away from his face, forcing away the tremor. He was embarrassed to to see a very fearful Yugi mutely holding a steaming cup of tea in one hand, and a spoon in the other, raised in a defensive gesture. Yugi's eyes darted from the spilled tea, to his own cup for several moments, before he backed away cautiously.

_I'm sorry, Yami...I guess you don't like tea?_

Yami's cheeks flamed in humilation, as he looked at the puddle on the floor, the sticky, scalding mess that now drenched his clothes, and most of all, the look of suprised hurt on Yugi's face.

Yami's face crumbled in absolute shame, as he helplessly surveyed the blanket, timid fingers only confirming the damage done. Wordlessly, he raised his eyes to Yugi, imploringly.

_I'm... Yugi, I am so sorry. I truly did not know what came over me, forgive me, please..._

Yugi gave him a kind smile, as he set the tea cup down._ It's alright, Yami, really! All we have to do is throw that blanket into the wash. The carpet will dry itself out, and I've already dumped so much stuff on it, one more stain won't make any difference. Really, Yami, it's not a big deal. That tea was awfully hot, though. Are you sure you're alright?_

Yami nodded, mutely as he stooped to mop up the mess and hide his tears. _What is wrong with me? I must be insane to let such a thing that happened so long ago reduce me to this weeping, weak wreck._

Yugi watched the hunched Pharoah on hands and knees wiping away, uncertainly, before he went to the kitchen for a towel. He came trotting back with several towels in his arms, that he dumped on the floor, and moved with his feet, giving Yami a smile. Yugi tactfully ignored the suspect shaking of Yami's shoulders, instictively guessing that the poor king would find it even more shameful to explain his distress, if spilled tea triggered such a reaction. Ruefully, he shook his head, as Yami accepted the proffered towel with a nod, and hastily turned away. Yugi noticed his soaking hair, that was steadily dripping down his cheek, leaving a sticky mess in its wake from all the sweet stuff that he had dumped into the cup. Indeed, a tangled glob had formed on Yami's temple.

_Yami? You have tea all over your face. Do you want to go upstairs and wash it off? I know it feels nasty._

Yami shook his head._ I will do nothing until I have cleaned up this mess caused by my carelessness. _

_Yami, you already mopped most of it away. It wasn't even that big of a cup. Now, unless you enjoy having that sticky gunk in your hair, why don't you go clean it out of your hair? And, please, stop worrying about this! You act like you've never made a mistake before._

Yami jerked his hand away from the mess as if he had been burned, before drawing himself up to his full height, giving Yugi a grim stare.

_Yugi, if you knew the mistakes I have made, and the choices that led me here to this time..._

Yami bit his lip, tightly and shook his head with an odd resolve. _I am sorry. _ His voice trailed off softly, as he abruptly spun on his heel, and marched up the stairs.

Yugi watched the fleeting form, mulling over the unanswered questions. To see Yami so struck with terror over such a minor issue seemed strange. But when he considered that Yami's hands kept instinctively darting towards his throat, and the effort Yugi had to put forth to not stare at that horrible white slash..

Yugi shivered, when he remembered that Yami was indeed a spirit, and the vague way he glossed over his demise, leaving it completely open to Yugi's own

interpretation. And from that pained look on Yami's face, the embarrassment, and that panicked reaction...he could not begin to fathom what exactly had been done to him. Yugi shot a sympathetic look to the footsteps above his head, with a shrug. If Yami wanted to devulge that, he would. Yugi was never one to intrude in such a matter of private pain.

--------------

Scars--

Yami had scrubbed the stickiness off of his skin, leaving his flesh raw, and red. He had lathered his hair into a huge ball of foam, enjoying the sensation of the hot spray of water against his scalp, as he rinsed himself off, and shook droplets everywhere.He wasn't exactly sure what was in the various bottles that littered the bathtub's corner, but when he saw the smiling figure with the glittering hair on the bottle, and the cascading water on the label, he was able to deduce that this was what people in Yugi's time used to clean their hair. The stuff that came from the bottle was a vivid green, with a suprisingly fruity scent, and Yami had used almost all of it. He turned off the water, watching the odd sight of the soapy liquid swirling down the open hole in the bottom of the tub, and raising an eyebrow at the rubber fish decals that decorated the bathroom tiles. Peeking his head out to make sure that he was alone from the shower curtain, he almost stepped out of the tub, when he heard a knock on the door, and Yugi's cheerful voice muffled behind its wood.

_I didn't know if Grampa did enough laundry to leave you some towels to use, so I left some sitting out by the door. I got you a bathrobe, too._

He heard Yugi pad away. Yami swathed himself in a towel, and opened the door to see a heap of towels and a wadded up robe laying in a pile. Yami hastily

shoveled them all into the bathroom, and shut the door. It was then that he saw the mirror, and saw, for the first time, how the rest of the world might see him.

(Author's note: I do know that they had polished glass in ancient Egypt for mirrors, but aside from the reflection of water, I don't think people really saw themselves that much!)

Yami stood, transfixed at his own image, as he stared down at his bare torso, of the story written on his flesh. There was the long, clean white slit crowning his sternum, where Isis had stabbed him through the heart, pale and raised against the tan of his narrow chest. He grimaced when he ran a hand down his left ribs, and felt the dent where the one had been broken during Isis's poisoning. He shook his head in confusion, knowing now that it was nothing more than a lie from the Puzzle, but still not understanding how a lie could manifest itself in the odd convex bone. He tilted his head downward, to see his face. He still retained some of the darkness of his time in the sun, but he was saddened to see the sheer weariness that languished over his once youthful features. His cheekbones were in sharp contrast to his gently rounded mouth, and he was pleased to see that he did have the same regal features as his father, had he the ability to actually grow facial hair. His eyes were still the same deep violet that either drew awe, or snickers, but new lines of care had etched themselves around the corners, and he was not suprised to see that the inocent light he knew was gone. Lastly,with a mental steeling of his nerves, he tilted his head upward to see the full damage done to his neck. It became glaringly apparent imediately why the sight had sickened Isis, and even made the tactful Yugi turn away. He had learned, from simply running his fingers over his neck and feeling the raised lines that went from jaw to jaw that Seth had left his mark. But he had no idea it was this horrible! Ringing his throat like a perverse necklace, the jagged slash marks splintered into an array of tangled scars carved out haphazardly towards the center of his neck, in a wide, vicious arch, only to splay like lightening across to the back of his neck. The sickening lines wove themselves almost from his jaw bone to collar bone. The trail of scars was a good six inches, at least, blazing his suffering in huge, visible hackings for all the world to see. With a deepening scowl, Yami shrugged his shoulders, and straightened. He had hardly expected to emerge from any of this unscathed. It only made sense that such an experience leave some visible reminder to him. In a way, he was perversely grateful for that. It was a badge of honor, tangible evidence of his sacrifice. With a nod in resolve, he fingered his throat with a surge of pride. He would ask Yugi if there were some sort of covering he may obtain to mask the lines, but it was time that he faced the pain and be done with it. It couldn't be worse that reliving that horrible moment over and over again until he broke to pieces over something that could not be altered, or changed 5000 years later. Draping the robe over his narrow frame, Yami tied the belt at his hips. Resolutely, he turned away from his reflection, and after gathering up the sopping towels, quietly exited the bathroom.

Yugi watched Yami drift down the stairs again, the wadded up towels in both arms, as he peered shyly at Yugi, with an uncertain glance towards the towels.

Yugi gave him a reassuring smile, as he rose to his feet._ Those go in the hamper. Let me take them. _

Yami silently handed the towels over, and watched Yugi disappear down the corner. He heard the distant roar of another mysterious machine somewhere down the

hall, and saw Yugi emerge a few moments later without the towels. The awkward silence between them spanned for long moments, as Yugi drummed his fingers

against the table, and Yami frowned in silent contemplation. With a sigh and resolve, Yami abruptly rose to his feet, his face commanding, and his voice polite, but

cold, and distantly regal.

_Yugi, you do not know me at all, but you have accepted my presence without question, and you have done nothing but treat me with kindness. For that_

_I thank you. However, I am afraid that I have not been completely honest when I told you about my ancient past. I apologize for that. I had no intentions_

_of decieving you. But, I wish to make amends for it._

Yugi watched curiously, as Yami strode the few steps between them, until they were almost nose to nose. Yugi raised his eyebrows, as he saw Yami peer deep into his eyes, with a calculating tilt of his head.

_Yami? What exactly are you doing?_

Yami only gave him a half smile. _I am not sure. But, if I am successful, you will certainly notice a most refreshing change. You are ill, correct?_

_Yeah. That's why I keep blowing my nose, and my voice sounds so hoarse. Why?_

Yami said nothing, but only raised a hand, with the fingers outstretched, as he lay it across Yugi's crinkled forehead. Yugi's eyes seemed in danger of rolling out of

his skull when he felt the unearthly warmth trickle from Yami's hand through his body. _Yami? What are you doing?_

_Wait._ Yami's soft answer wafted between them, as his lips curled into a mysterious, and satisfied smile. Yugi muttered something, and Yami could see the fear in his

bulging eyes when the glowing eye of Horus appeared in its arching blaze across his forehead.

_Yami?! Your forehead is glowing! What are you doing?! _ His voice was a high squeak of alarm, as Yami withdrew his hand, and stepped back in concern.

_Yugi? I did not hurt you, did I?_ Yugi lurched backwards. _ Yami, what was that? What did you do to me?!_

Yami was silent for a long moment, before he replied. _ How is your...sickness? Does it plague you still, or can you breathe clearly now?_

Yugi took an experimental breath through his nose, and swallowed. He could breathe without feeling like he was attempting to inhale a spike covered wash cloth, and the dull ache from his clogged sinuses was completely gone. His throat felt cool and relaxed, and there was no raw pain from his swallowing. Gone were the chills and the throbbing head.

_Wow! How did you do that? I feel 100 percent better! Thank you! _

Yami allowed a smug little grin. _It is my gift to you. To compensate you for the inconvience of my earlier clumsiness, and tolerating my presence._

_Yami._ The earnest, solemn tone in Yugi's voice commanded his attention, as Yugi gently draped a hand over his shoulder. _You haven't been here long enough_

_to be a burden. And everybody makes mistakes, believe me. Whatever you did in the past can't possibly be so bad that it can't be made right, or at_

_least forgiven so you can move on._

Yami looked at him, sharply, wondering if Yugi was able to garner the horror he had endured, or if the boy was just unnaturally perceptive. Or maybe, Yami

had one of his nightmares and blurted the tale out under duress as he slept.

Yugi gave Yami a long look, and a smile of understanding. _I don't exactly know why I said that, Yami. But, it seemed to be something that you needed to hear._

_I'm sorry if I overstepped my bounds, or anything like that. But, 5000 years is a long, long time to live with something. And I don't know of anybody who lives their lives without getting a few scars along the way. _Yugi said quietly, with a pointed look at Yami's neck._ Scars are nothing to be ashamed of. I noticed you keep picking at those lines around your neck. Maybe it would make you feel a little less self-conscious if you saw some of mine._

Yugi rolled up the sleeve of his pajama shirt, of his left arm to the elbow, to show a curious pattern of darkened dots that went from the inside of his wrist to his

elbow. Yami looked at them, questioningly. _This is where my mother put her cigarette out on me when I was a little kid. They're burn marks, Yami._

Yami's eyes darted up to him in horrified understanding.

_Your own mother burned you?_ Yugi gave him a sad smile of old pain, and quite different from his usual bright cheer. _She did much more than burn me, Yami. I'm not going to get into it, now, but this is a big reason why I live with Grampa and not my mother._

Yugi drew the sleeve back over his arm, silently buttoning it into place, before he unrolled the other sleeve. His bare flesh showed nothing but a curious white line,

much like the one that Yami bore over his heart.

_Does this look familiar, Yami? It came from the Puzzle. I would have had much more than a scar, if you hadn't stepped in the way and blocked that attack._

_That's why I'm not afraid of you. Because you took the brunt of that whole thing for me. I know we haven't talked that through, and, at the time, I thought it was nothing more than a dream, but now that you're here...do you not feel like we've known each other forever? Look at us. How many people in Egypt ever had hair as wild as ours? How many people do you know have these weird purple eyes? We both resemble each other enough to be twins, and we can even read each other's minds. Yami..._

Yugi's eyes suddenly filled with tears, and Yami rose to his feet protectively._ Yami, I have something to tell you, about that attack._ Yugi bit his lip, looking as

if he were going to collapse. _ I accidently dropped the Puzzle. There was a corner piece that was chipped away, and I heard this scream coming from the _

_Puzzle...was that you?_

Yami was rigid, his jaw quaking, and his eyes hardened into considering realization. _Yugi...was it after you dropped the Puzzle that you had this dream?_

Yugi nodded. _Yugi, please bring the Puzzle here._ Yugi stared at him for a moment, but trotted up the stairs to retrieve the golden object, while Yami crossed his arms and continued his troubled thoughts.

Yugi came thundering down the stairs, with the Puzzle balanced in one hand, and a book in the other. Shyly, Yugi held the Puzzle out, as Yami reverently lifted it up.

The warmth and the shimmering glitter that danced over its golden points as if in welcome made Yami even more afraid. Yami felt the loose corner piece wobble

beneith his palm, and he carefully turned it over in his hands. The overwhelming hunger that poured forth from it...greedy hunger, baring its fangs back to drink his anguish, and the sheer malice made his stomache lurch in alarm as he fought the urge to throw the cursed thing at a wall.

_Yami? Are you alright?_ Yugi saw Yami's face harden into a look of fear and hatred, as he hastily passed the Puzzle to Yugi before he followed his more foolish instincts.

_It is a thing of evil, Yugi. And if you bare scars that came from its attack on you in a dream..._ Yami swallowed hard._ Then it has the power to manifest itself in this realm as well._

Yami gave a bitter, sad, wry sigh, as he crossed his arms, and stared at the Puzzle in resignation. _Then I am no more free here than I was when I was alive _

_in Egypt. _

Yugi said nothing, but only gave Yami a comforting smile. _Maybe we should get some sleep. This couch is nice, but not as comfortable as a bed. Why don't_

_you come upstairs with me, and find you a place to sleep, huh? I mean, there's not too much to be done about this right now, anyway, is there?_

Yami relunctantly shook his head, and silently followed Yugi with a bowed head, and eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

-

It was the odd sounds of pans being slammed downstairs, and the delicious smell of something sizzling that awoke Yami. He lay bundled up on the floor

in a sleeping bag, and a pillow by Yugi's bed. Yugi had offered the Pharoah the use of his bed, but he gave a stoic refusal, and was actually asleep too quickly

for Yugi to argue. Puzzled, Yami rose on his elbows, and cocked his ear to listen to the sounds that were coming from downstairs. Yami watched Yugi mutter

something, and roll over, burrowing deeper into the covers. Yami smiled fondly at him. Clearly the boy was not an early riser, and from the bright shaft of sunlight

wafting through the drawn shades, Yami could tell that the morning was well on its way. He yawned, rose, and silently began to roll the sleeping bag into a neat ball,

replacing Yugi's pillow on his bed, and tidying up the mess of the rumpled sheets. A soft knock at the door interupted his task, and he froze. The knock grew louder, and Yami heard the deep, but kind rumbling of an old voice announcing, "Yugi, my boy, breakfast is ready, sleepy head. It's time to wake up!"

Yugi groaned, and his muffled voice emerged from his face that was buried deep in the pillow, "Okay, Grandpa, I'll be right there!"

Yami heard footsteps coming to the door, watched in fear as the doorknob turned, and, to his shock, vanished into thin air.

Solomon Moto's grey head appeared from the open door, as he narrowed his eyes to see Yugi still curled up in the bed. He was vaguely troubled by the afterimage he thought he saw-a strange figure that looked just like Yugi, that was gone too quickly for him to even believe it was there at all. He shook his head, as he tapped Yugi's shoulder gently. Yugi stirred, and bolted awake when he saw Solomon standing over him, with an impatient foot tapping. "Breakfast is ready, and waiting

for one hungry grandson, if he can get his little keister out of bed. I happened to make blueberry pancakes, which I believe is his favorite, if he can manage to make the long journey downstairs." Yugi smiled up at him, yawned apologetically, and scrambled out of bed, as he tried to smoothe the sheets over into some semblance of order. Solomon sighed, fondly, and waved his attempts away. "Leave it for now, Yugi. You know that I would never deprive you of food because of an unmade bed."

Once Yami had gotten over the dizzying disorientation, he opened his eyes in numb horror to once again see the glitter of the Puzzle's bricks, as he stared stupidly

at them, not understanding what he was doing there. All he knew was that he wished for an escape, and then he felt the strange pulling sensation to find himself

flung into the Puzzle. He was perversely grateful that his golden prison was hiding his presense from the one Yugi called "grandfather" but it was disturing, none the less.The appearance of his old tutor, Shimon, was indeed welcome, and from the way the old man's eyes lingered in his direction after he disappeared told Yami

that he had been seen. But, he did not know if Shimon had any memory of him, and if not, how the grandfather would react to a spirit lingering around his grandson.

Yami shook his head, resolving to muse over that thought much later, when he had the time to devote to it. Now, he had the most disturbing question of how he

was back in the Puzzle. He could sense its presence shuddering, retreating with a silent entreaty for him not to hurt it any more. Yami was flummoxed by that change, and thought it was yet another trick. But, from the rapid fleeing, and the desperate fear that shimmered from its depths, Yami could tell-however strangely-that this

was no trick. He, however, was hardly in the mood for mercy when he wanted answers, and not eager to forgive for all the pain that the Puzzle had mindlessly inflicted on him. Yami commanded the Puzzle to present itself with a sneer and a gesture, and he was perversely gratified to see the shadow slinking towards him

like a retreating cockroach.

_Yes, my king? May I serve you?_

Yami made no attempt to hide his disgust. "Why have you drawn me back into this place? You seemed so eager to have me free, and yet you attempt to

imprison me once again?"

The answer was soft, hesitant,and very afraid. _My king, I did not draw you forth. I no longer have the power to do so. It was by your wish that you_

_reappeared here._

Yami's mouth twisted into a scowl, as he considered this information. "Really? Very well, then. If you provide a satisfactory answer to my question, you will not

be punished. Why, after fighting for nearly 5000 years to escape this golden hell, would I want to come back? Is this a logical course of action to you?"

_My king, I am no longer in control over your thoughts, and have not been for some time, now. Surely you have noticed the change in my essence, and _

_the strong magic necessary to keep you here. If you wish to debate logic, my king, I have my own question for you? If I were so powerful to keep you_

_caged here, why would I let you escape in the first place? Why would I allow you to linger so long in the world outside, and why would I suddenly _

_draw you back at your wish, and not my own?  
_

Yami's eyes slid up at the walls in relunctant thoughts, as he sighed. What the Puzzle said made perfect sense, and it certainly would not risk injuring itself to

maintain the illusion that it still held power, if Yami was strong enough to control it.

"So, you are saying that I now have the ability to move freely from the Puzzle as I wish? How is this possible?"

_My king, I was initially created to house your spirit until the time came for you to be released...and you have been released. It was by the hands of that_

_child you befriended, when he put the pieces of me back together. Since you are spirit, you are no longer subject to the rules of the flesh, and you now_

_have the ability to pass through solid objects...such as my gold. You wished to disappear, and I had no choice but to obey your command. That is how_

_you reappeared here. If you wish to leave this place, then simply wish it to be so, and you shall find yourself back with the boy._

Yami stared at the Puzzle, with a considering eyebrow arched. "No. I will not be leaving until I recieve some forthright answers from you, you cursed trinket!

You have the power of deception, as I well know. But, are my fragmented memories the result of your bedamned manipulation, or was I truly betrayed?"

It was the Puzzle's dreaded silence that truly unnerved him. He felt its sick, smug satisfaction burbling forth, briefly, before it was choked down by a mask

of gloating.

_My king, what actually happened, and your perception of past events vary greatly. You speak so highly of my manipulative powers, but consider this:_

_you believe the lady Isis to be your friend, and had faith in her ability to see the future. Would the one you called friend lock you away in a piece_

_of gold that had this ability? I cannot altar the future, nor do I change the past. I can reflect memories, bend them to my will, if I wish. But to actually_

_altar time itself is a power forbidden for mortals or their items to attempt._

"And I am a ressurected spirit from 5000 years ago, living in a corrupted piece of gold, and now dwelling in the 21st century. I daresay that the firm and fixed

beliefs no longer apply in my situation. How can they?"

_They do not. If it pleases you, my king, I will acknowledge your existance to be out of the bounds of normalacy. But I have no more knowledge of_

_this than I have already given you, so do not expect the answers you seek from me. Seek your answers from the old and the wise, my king. Recall_

_how beloved Master Shimon once guided you through confusion with a steadying hand so long ago. Seek him out now._

With that, the Puzzle went silent again, and Yami found himself staring again at the walls, the words still lingering. Yami was both sated and irritated of the Puzzle's

answers. It heartened him mightily to know that he was no longer subject to anybody's mercy and delighted with his new friend, Yugi. The modern time he was

now residing in seemed to be enchanting with all of its power, and Yami was quite eager to explore his new existance. He heard the deep mumblings of Yugi's

grandfather as he shuffled around the kitchen banging various metal pieces together, through the strange connection he discovered with Yugi, and wondered

if Yugi's grandfather would tolerate his existance, forgetting that Yugi was able to understand his thoughts.

_Yami?! Where did you disappear to?_ Yugi was pivoting around frantically for some trace of Yami, as he stooped under the bed. _I'm sorry if my grandfather_

_startled you, but you don't need to be afraid of him. He won't hurt you. Yami, please, come out!_

Yami closed his eyes, exhaled and felt the waft of wind again, as he suddenly reappeared in the room, once more. Yugi stared, mutely, his eyes rolling in a wide,

confused arc between the Puzzle, and Yam, and back again, as he shook his head. _ Yami, did you go into the Puzzle?_

Yami nodded._ Good_ came Yugi's answer. _Maybe you can explain it to me one day, but not now. Now, are you going to come downstairs with me for_

_breakfast, or do you want to stay up here for a while before meeting my grandfather? We can't exactly hide you here forever, especially if you keep_

_vanishing into thin air and popping out again. What is it like in the Puzzle, anyway? _

Yami turned abruptly at the question, as he stared down with hardened eyes and a bent spine in a preditory crouch over the bedamned gold, and shook his

head, slowly, before he turned to Yugi with infinite pain in those eyes once more.

_It is not unlike existing on the inside of a tomb. There is nothing there but golden bricks that spiral endlessly into ever confusing corridors, and _

_memories of mine littered along the way. I think you might find it rather...redundant. But, after 5000 years of seeing the same scenes over and _

_over again, I may speak with a bit of a bias, Yugi._

Yugi stared at the Puzzle, warily with a raised eyebrow._ I guess Grandpa got a bit more than he bargained for when he brought the Puzzle home, didn't he?  
_

Yami turned to Yugi sharply. _Master Shimon..er...your grandfather was the one who discovered the Puzzle? Is that how it was removed from Egypt?_

Yugi flushed awkwardly._ I'm sorry about that. My grandfather was a great Egyptianologist...um...somebody who studies Egyptian history, and he_

_loves to go on archiological digs when he gets time away from the game shop-that's how we support ourselves-and he brought the Puzzle back_

_to Japan, and gave it to me. But, Grandpa isn't into desecrating sacred items. He's always big on leaving the tombs alone as much as possible._

Yami frowned in confused irritation, only able to understand about half of Yugi's words. He shook his head in dismissal, he would have time later to piece that

information out for himself, if it were necessary. _Yugi, your grandfather...how will you explain my presence here? If you wish me to leave, I shall._

_NO! You can't go, Yami. You don't know the first thing about surviving in this world-not that I don't think you would eventually figure it out, of course,_

_but I want you to stay. You can go back into your Puzzle if you think that would be easier for a while, but we could only hide this for so long, and I know that Grandpa will handle this much better than you give him credit for. As to how we would explain this? Well...I don't really think we can, Yami._

Yugi gave him a wilting smile at the admission, before he brightened again._ But, I don't think we'll need to, though. Once he sees you, and you do your magic_

_with the Puzzle...I don't think it will be a problem, Yami. Now...have you ever eaten blueberry pancakes?_

--

Solomon's Wisdom...

Solomon grinned tolerantly at Yugi's footsteps making their way down the stairs, as he heaped several pancakes into a small mountain, and dribbled an obscene

amount of syrup over them with a pat of butter. He put the plate at Yugi's usual spot, the small barstool that sat underneith the counter that was centered in the small,

humble kitchen, along with orange juice, and silverware. He hummed as he took off his apron, and made a plate for himself, then took his customary spot across

the counter facing Yugi.

Yugi emerged with considerable trepidation, hoping for his grandfather's understanding, but fearful of the consequences. Yami had retreated into the Puzzle, and he

could feel the waves of fear, and hope radiating in equal intensity, as Yugi carefully set the golden object down on the counter for Solomon's inspection.

Solomon gave a grin of triumph, as he rose to pat Yugi's shoulder. "Well done, my boy. It seems that you have solved the Puzzle at last. A chip off the old block.

You weren't up all night playing with that, now, were you?" He scolded, gently. Yugi yawned, then blushed. "I was up late last night, Grandpa. But, I had a really

good reason. Grandpa, I need to tell you something." Yugi figited worriedly, as he stared up to see Solomon's concern. "I don't know exactly how to say it, either."

Solomon put down his fork, and rose on his elbows.. "Yugi, I am your grandpa. You don't ever need to be afraid to come to me if something is troubling you. And from those circles under your eyes, young man, I dare say that something is.Now, then. What is it?"

"Um...well...it's the Puzzle, Grandpa." Yugi stalled, as he tried desperately to grope for the words to explain the impossible. "When I completed it, something happened.Something really good, but sort of scary, if you don't believe in that sort of thing. I mean, you have an open mind, but, I don't think you would really

go for this.."

"Yugi." Solomon's steady voice rose, as he grasped the small hands in understanding over the counter. "You never were good at lying to me, and you have never

been able to babble your way out of telling me something you really needed to, young man. Why not just tell me out right and let me be the judge of what I believe,

hmmm?"

Yugi sighed. "Alright, Grandpa. But promise me you won't freak out, alright?" Solomon smiled tolerantly, thinking that poor, embarrassed Yugi had done something

minor, like chip the Puzzle, or lose at a duel.

_Yami? I have the Puzzle sitting out on the counter, right now. I know this is a dumb question, but do I need to set it on the floor so you don't wind up_

_breaking the kitchen table?_

Yami's irritated squawk came forth. _Yugi, I am perfectly capable of emerging from the Puzzle where I choose without resorting to standing on your kitchen_

_table. I can even emerge fully clothed if you wish, in my ancient garb. Would your grandfather prefer that?_

_Well, Yami, excuse me for not knowing how exactly an ancient spirit emerges from a puzzle, or what clothes you wear. You weren't really planning on _

_coming out ...naked, were you?_

Yami did not deem it necessary to reply to that, but he chafed under the audacity of the question. He was a very modest person, to the point of being shy, and

would be absolutely mortified if that was even a remote possibility.He was no prude, of course, but revealing his flesh in such a balant and obtrusive way made him

recoil at the very thought.

_Yugi...Rest assured, please. I have no intention of being anything less than fully clothed in the presences of anybody. _

_Good, good. Then, could you please come out?_ There was silence across the bond, and Solomon seemed to be perfectly flummoxed at Yugi's facial

expressions as he mentally chatted with Yami. "Are you that lost in your thoughts, Yugi?" Solomon asked with a raised eyebrow.

_Yami?! My grandfather is going to think I am absolutely insane if you don't come out. Please, make your appearance, or something already!_

_You sincerely believe that my appearance is going to improve this situation at all? _ The wry answer hid Yami's fear, as he shored his defenses for the leap of

faith.

_I will come out, Yugi. But forgive me for the consequences. _ With a sigh, Yami braced himself, and emerged.

He heard the soft clink of metal as Solomon dropped his fork, and his jaw, staring in disbelief with a small shake of his head.

"Grandpa?...meet...Yami." Yugi whispered weakly with a gesture towards the Pharoah, who stood shimmering in the aftermath of the spell, and cloaked in

his Egyptian garb of gold and white. Solomon scowled, deeply, and huffed to his feet as he waddled over to Yami, with narrowed violet eyes full of confusion.

"Yugi." Came the bark of his grandson's name. "Yes, Grandpa?" Solomon did not take his eyes away from Yami at all, but gave Yugi the order "Go into the kitchen,

and fix another plate. I'll come for it when I am ready, understand, my boy?" Yugi gave a quick nod as he scrambled away. He paused behind Solomon to give Yami a quick apologetic look of reassurance.

_Don't worry, Yami. It's going to be alright. Just be honest with him, okay?_ Yami watched the small retreating back as it disappeared, with desperate longing.

From the annoyed sigh and the pointed cough coming from the old man, Yami gulped, and stared with tredipiation under the baleful weight of Solomon's stare.

The old man said nothing, only cocked his head to the side to ponder the situation with infinitely irritating patience, and Yami fought the urge to flee. Solomon noted

with concern that Yami looked small, embarrassed, and miserable. What was most unnerving about the situation was the complete lack of suprise from the old man.

Indeed, Solomon was watching with the air of somebody who already understood far more than Yami liked.

"So." began Solomon in the ancient Egyptian tongue, "You are Yami.You came from the Puzzle, did you not?" Yami's eyes shot open wide at hearing his own

language, and he answered, unthinking, "Sir?! How do you know my tongue? I thought it was no longer spoken in your modern times."

Solomon gave a rich, warm, pleasured chuckle. "Maybe not spoken, my boy, but certainly studied by those who love your country's history. This is certainly an

interesting situation."

"Interesting is not what I would deem this situation, sir. I am 5000 years out of my time, and away from all that I have known and loved. It is not a fate that many

would be pleased with." Yami admitted with a rueful twist of his lips.

Solomon looked at him with compassion. "You sound like you have learned the bitter lesson that fate doesn't really bother itself with what we want most of the time. But it still doesn't explain what you are. Are you a spirit, or a ghost? Unless I am going senile or blind in my old age, I know you're not a hallucination. Do you remember dying in Egypt?"

The tears that welled up in Yami's eyes made him regret the words. "Yes, sir." Yami's fingers curled unwillingly at the golden clasp of the cloak, as he slowly

peeled the material away to reveal the scars. "It...I...It was not an expected death, sir, nor was it a pleasant one."

Solomon stared at Yami's mutilated neck in horror as Yami hastily moved the cloak to conceal it again. "I am sorry if I disturbed you, sir. But you seem to know

a great deal more about me than you admit to." Solomon nodded, slowly. "That may be, Yami. That may be in deed. If you don't mind me asking, how was it

necessary for your neck to be sliced to the point of decapitation? Being sealed away certainly did not involve undue suffering to the victim. Certainly not violence

of that sort!"

Yami bowed his head, wearily, as he murmured, "I do not feel completely comfortable disclosing that information, sir. I do not mean to be inpolite, but this issue

is an extremely personal and painful one. Will you tell me how you know of the Sealing?"

Solomon gave him a coy, secretive grin, as he rose without answering imediately. "I think it best we allow Yugi to hear this, don't you? My grandson would not

appreciate any of this being kept a secret, unless you have reasons for why he shouldn't know?"

Yami faltered.."Is he not a child?" Solomon huffed as if offended, before facing Yami squarely. "Never call him that, Yami. That young man in there has been through

hell and back, and has not lost his sweet nature, or his compassion. He's displayed a great deal more maturity about his life than most people. Believe me, he looks

small, but don't let that fool you. My grandson is a very tough young fellow, and you'd be wise to remember that. Besides," he grinned, gently."I think you both

have a great deal in common, Yami. I think you will find that he can help you, and vice versa, if you will let him."

"You have not known me for more than an hour, sir, yet you are demanding that I share some of my most intimant memories with you. How do I know that I can

trust you?"

Solomon drew himself up sharply, with a smug allowance. " And you are a 5000 year old spirit who claims to be an Egyptian pharoah, who just appeared from a

golden triangle in my kitchen. Exactly who should be dealing with the issue of trust here, Yami? I will tell you this, though. If I ever find that you mean harm to Yugi,

I will happily smash the Puzzle, and end your existance permanently-spirit or not. And, rest assured, my boy, I know how to do so."

For a moment, Solomon looked more like a bulldog than an old man, and even though Yami had to look down to see him, he was still very much alarmed. With such

a sway of power over Yami, it was little wonder the old man had such ready acceptance of his presence.

"Yes, sir. I promise that I mean no harm to Yugi, nor will I ever permit any to fall upon him." Solomon gave him a wide, welcoming smile.

"Good, good. Then we should get along fine, Yami...And, oh, yes. I know about you because of the hyrogliphics that are carved into the box that the Puzzle came in. They are not that difficult to read if you have studied Egyptian as long as I have. I think that you were _meant _to be here, Yami."

"Sir? How is it that you just accept that I am who I say I am, without any need of proof? I appreciate your more than generous hospitality, of course, but I find

myself a bit unnerved at this unexpected kindness, and I can't help but wonder what your intentions are." Solomon looked at him for a long moment, then gave

a gleeful, beaming smile. "Knowledge, my boy! To have my curiosity sated! I have studied your country's history as a passion for the past 30 years, and no

story intrigued me more than the one that was carved on the Puzzle's sides. Besides..." Solomon's voice dropped to a conspirital whisper as he heard Yugi's

timid knock on the door. "Yugi is not the first person I have met to have an item with a sealed spirit, you know." Yami inhaled in shock, as he turned to Solomon.

"Do you mean that there are others who have been sealed away? That there are more in this time who have survived the eons to exist in this present day? But why?"

Solomon waved the questions away, as he rose to holler, "Yugi, you may come in now! Your young friend and I have finished our chat, my boy."

He turned to Yami with intense worry, and whispered, under his breath. "Not all those sealed away have such masters, Yami. You are a very lucky young man indeed." He then turned to Yugi with a welcoming gesture as he staggered in with another plate loaded with pancakes. Yami stared down at the alien bread, as Yugi

handed him a fork and took the liberty of dumping a massive amber glob of syrup onto Yami's plate. "Dig in!" he said cheerily, as he sat down across from Solomon

and proceeded to wolf down the pancakes with happy abandon. Yami watched in amazement as Yugi plowed through the food and promptly piled his plate with

another heap. With a curious look to Solomon, he whispered, "Sir? Does Yugi always consume that much food?"

Solomon chuckled. "It _is_ a rather curious thing, isn't it? How in the world can somebody so small possibly eat that much? It makes me wonder where all his food goes!"

"It goes into my stomache, you two! Where else would it go? Just because I'm small doesn't mean that I have to have an appetite to match!" Yugi answered with

an irritated wave of his fork. "Yami? You don't like pancakes?" Yugi stared at Yami as if the poor Pharoah had just sprouted a second head in dismay.

Yami stared curiously at the food on his plate, and awkwardly manuvered the fork as he stabbed the first pancake and brought the whole thing up to his mouth.

He gnawed at it, nervously, before Solomon gently nudged his shoulder, and sawed the pancake into pieces for Yami's convience. Yami flushed again, but

smiled his gratitude as he timidly brought the food to his mouth. Yugi's grin widened when he saw Yami's suprise, then rapture as he chewed in wonder, then

looked, wide-eyed at Solomon. "Sir? This is ...absolutely manna for the gods themselves. How on earth did you manage to concieve of such a thing?"

Soloman gave him a wry look, as Yugi supplied, "All you do is mix stuff in a bowl and put it in a skillet, Yami. Even I can do that." Yami paid no attention, though.

He was too busy gorging himself on the pancakes and relishing the sensation of tasting food again. The finest court banquet could not compare to this glorious

fare before him! And, together, the three ate their first breakfast together. Yugi looked at his grandfather and Yami, with a smile. It was good to see that they

were getting along this well already.


	19. Drifting, or Drowning?

Author's Note: . I hope a few of you were able to pick up on the dark hint at the end of the last paragraph about "other items having spirits sealed in them," as well. Right now, this is only a potential hint of future guest appearances from somebody...My instinct now is to go with Malik, (Marik's bad Yami, and the younger brother of Isis) but there have been some Bakura fans who have been campaigning for his appearance. He seems to be a favorite with a lot of you, and I am flattered that you think that I can write him into this fic. I make no promises but an attempt...not because I dislike Bakura, but because I don't think I can write him well enough to fit with the rest of this story. He's an intriging character, but...yeah. We'll just have to wait and see. Kaiba lovers should rejoice with the new chapters I added to "The End of All Things."

It was meant to be a simple one-shot, that I wrote when I was in a depressed mood, but I loved the interaction between Yami and Kaiba so much that I had to post it. I hope that it is the right amount of angst and humor to keep you happy. I am hoping that "The End of All Things" doesn't evolve into the spiraling epic that "Crown" has become, but it is showing the definite promise of developing that way. God bless you all for sticking with me this long. Anyway, on with the fic...

It was the best of times for the Moto household. Yami had readily accepted both Solomon and Yugi as family, and they

in turn, welcomed him with open arms. Apart from harmless curiosity, the story of Yugi's "cousin from back East" was accepted without question.

Despite their wild hair, and violet eyes, both of the young men-Yami and Yugi- were so quiet and unobtrusive, they were easily over looked, and for that,

Yami was profoundly grateful. It was liberating to the young king to be free to move about without being dogged by a royal guard, to eat a meal without

an elaborate ceremony, to be able to dress and exist as he pleased, without being forced into golden shackles and pressured to maintain his regal mask.

Yami spent most of his days quietly drifting through the moments, continually searching Solomon's vast collection of ancient literature for some hint, or

fragment of his past, or helping out at the Game Shop. Solomon was mindful of Yami's unfamiliarity with the customs and how to operate the cash register,

so he set the industrious spirit to work stocking the back room or arranging displays. Yami simply did as he was told, to the best of his ability, with a quickness

both alarmed and blessed the older Moto. It was not unusal to find Yami lingering rather shyly in the doorway after a task that should take hours, with his eyes downcast,

almost apologetically asking for more work. On occasion, they would eat a quick lunch, Solomon observing Yami as he ate small, timid bites, eyes continually darting

around the room in that ever present wariness. It was almost as if Yami was expecting an attack. He would flinch with alarm with each friendly chime of the doorbells

that hung over the door, to announce the entrance or exit of a customer. One time, Yami was restocking a shelf, when a young boy looking for a particular dragon

only tapped the spirit on the shoulder, and Yami nearly bolted in blind panic. Solomon watched as Yami visibly shuddered, forced himself to focus with tremendous effort,

and with a hard swallow, politely directed the child to the counter where Solomon was perched and waiting. Yami left the child there with a pleading look to Solomon, retreating hastily to the back room. After assisting the customer, and looking around to see that there were no more people in the store, Solomon flicked the sign outside to

"closed," dimmed the lights, and stared with concern at the empty doorway, wondering if it would be more intrusive than helpful to follow Yami.

Solomon had noticed the bizzarre patern of Yami continually fleeing any situation that required social interaction. He was always gracious, polite, and far too regal in

his restraint to enjoy any of it. It had hurt Yugi to have his offers of outings, meetings with friends, or even a simple meal from a drive-through met with the most genteel

refusal, so softly voiced and distancing, that Yugi was left with no way to rebuff the argument. Indeed, Yugi felt strangely manipulated. Yami would then smile, and simply

...go. The interactions between Solomon and Yami were even more strained. Yami seemed to regard Yugi as somewhat safe. He freely smiled at the boy, and even allowed

himself a chuckle on occasion. But with Solomon, there was an unbearable strain between them, that both tried to ignore, or hide. Yami seemed to be almost afraid of the old man, no matter how Solomon sought a way to ease his fears. It was both confusing and hurtful to Solomon, who thought he had been both welcome and accomodating to the

younger boy. It was on this day, that Solomon decided he was quite fed up with dancing around the issue, and the tension between the two finally imploded.

Quietly, he made his way to the backroom, and was shocked to see Yami's head bowed over a glossy edition of the National Geographic. His fists were knotted on each

side, and he was shaking. Solomon's eyebrows quirked as he angled his head to see what on earth could provoke such an extreme reaction, then blanched with sudden

understanding. The magazine was open, displaying a bueatiful picture of the magnificant pyramids-now ravaged by time and crumpled by the ages, and turning to dust under

the cerilian Egyptian sky that brought the tears to Yami's eyes. His face was crumpled in homesick misery, and one hand was splayed over the glossy page, as if his flesh could force it to yield to his command and take him home. He winced at the longing ache for the Nile's waters to wash over him, the cleansing hot wind, the palace, Isis, his father. It was seeing the sacred places he thought too pure and holy to be brought down by something so low as time that hurt. To see the graves of his ancestors violated, the tombs broken into, the remains of his ancestors casually displayed for the pleasure of gawking onlookers, who all gaped and smiled, heedless of their horrible disrespect...It made him sick. It made him so enraged, as he sat there in helpless, futile trembling. _How could they?!_

Solomon huffed in announcement, and lumbered in, making a rather elaborate effort to ignore the crouched, miserable figure at the small table, as he puttered about, straightening things, and clearing his throat. Yami's head shot up, his eyes wide and vulnerable as Yugi's, lingering for a brief moment, before he abruptly shut the magazine, and rose to retreat. "Excuse me, sir." He bowed to Solomon, and turned to leave. He was stopped by the firm grip of Solomon's hand on his shoulder, and a pointed finger gesturing towards the chair. Yami's unease was clearly increasing to outright embarrassment, and he was unwillingly propelled back to the chair. Solomon's unyielding grip gently forced him to sit back down. Solomon noted the frantic dart of Yami's eyes towards the door, and how defeated and trapped the poor boy seemed to be. Yami ground all of his fingers into the metal arms of the chair, and he seemed to be bracing himself for a blow. Solomon hesitated in irritated compassion. It wouldn't do to startle Yami even more. Solomon considered sitting down next to him, but felt a bit of distance between the two of them might be more soothing for Yami's obvious distress. Solomon lowered himself with a groan, as he waved away Yami's concern. "Old age, my boy. That's what happens when you live long enough." Solomon was

struck by the sharp pain that flitted across Yami's features. _If he only knew how ironic that sounds._

"Sir?" Yami asked, quietly, as Solomon gave him a warm smile. "Never mind that, Yami. Now..." he shifted into a more comfortable position, cursed his knees, and

spread his hands outward in a gesture of introduction. "Young man, I believe that you and I have a few issues to discuss." Solomon groused sternly, but with a twinkle in his eyes. "We do?" Yami stared at Solomon as if his head started levitating several feet into the air. "Have I done something wrong, sir?"

Solomon negated the quiry with a grunt, and a wave of his hand. "No, Yami, you have done nothing wrong. But, I want to know why you feel so unwelcome here, young man." Yami looked as if he had swallowed his tongue and was now choking on it, as his eyes bulged with suprise pain. "Sir, you have been more than generous with your hospitality and I sincerely apologize if I seem anything less than grateful for it. I thank you for your kindness." Yami offered in the vague hope that his anger would be assaged, and this conversation ended. It was the same infuriating formality that Solomon had come to loathe over these past few weeks. "My boy, your politeness is quite respectful, but don't think that you can hide behind that with _me._ I am too old for those games, and you are far too young to need them. Why are you so afraid of me, Yami? Have I done something to make you fear me?" Yami looked up at him with a sudden jerk of his head, the wince and torment rattling to his core, as he inhaled with a gasp. Staring into those violet eyes, that were so like Shimon's, but so much those of a stranger...for one terrible moment, he no longer knew if this whole experience was just another fragmented prison from the Puzzle, and he shook himself. To be so kindly probed under that gentle, but uncompromising scrutiny _hurt,_ and for a few moments, Yami did not know why.

Yami raised his pleading eyes to Solomon, silently, then finally spoke. "It...it is not you, sir. Please understand that. I apologize. Please forgive me for this. I don't mean to show my weakness so openly, and I don't wish to burden you or Yugi any more than I already have. But if you wish me gone, then openly admit it, and send me away. Please don't tolerate my presence out of obligation. I could not stand that, sir. But if you permit me to stay, please, please don't ask me to explain myself. I can't! I'm sorry, but I can not..."Yami's voice ended in a choking hitch of breath, as Solomon rose from his chair with a grunt, and strode forth to Yami, until he was inches away from the young king's face. "Young man, that is the most selfish, outlandish statement that you could possibly come up with!" Solomon bellowed out indignantly, and was rewarded by Yami's face twisting as if he expected to be hit. "I am suprised at you, Yami! Is _that_ what you think of Yugi and I? That we would simply cast you out like trash?"

Yami shivered in absolute misery and humiliation. "How do I know that you won't?! How do I know that you won't betray me?! How can I depend on any truth in anything when everything I know has been absolutely shattered or based on lies?! I am sorry, sir. I'm so sorry!" Yami folded his arms against his chest, and looked so small, and

afraid that Solomon forced himself to bite back the fierce words that were threatening to spill forth. Solomon sighed deeply, in shock, as Yami wearily buried his head in his

hands and rubbed his throbbing temples. "Do you really believe you deserve such treatment? That I'd be so heartless? Do you know how much you mean to Yugi, Yami?  
How much he has become, and how much you have brought to him and to me? Why would I want you to leave? Yami, you are part of our _family._" Yami could only

tremble as Solomon reached forward, engulfed him in a protective embrace, and nod, mutely. Solomon narrowed his eyes, and gave Yami a sad look of understanding.

"Yami, my boy, if I could give you one thing, right now, it would be the certainty that you are wanted, and that neither Yugi nor I would ever hurt you. I don't know who hurt you so, but my boy, it's killing you. I won't press you to tell me what's broken you so much, but I am here for you. All you have to do is accept that."

Yami looked at him, torn, and shivering, and so consumed with the sudden agony that he couldn't speak for a moment. Then he whispered, "I know, sir. I just wish I could accept that. But it's not that simple. I...cannot just let it all go. I'm so sorry."

Solomon released him, with a wry smile. "Mayhaps, my boy, it is time you learned. Nobody should have to carry around that much pain alone." Yami gave him a small smile of hope.


	20. Into The Shadows, Part One

Into The Shadow's Reach

Solomon's heart ached to see the internal struggle that Yami was waging in front of him...the mad urge to bolt, to flee, to run until his lungs burst, to claw his way through the anguish into sweet, sweet oblivion, or distraction, or anything as long as it wasn't this sickening sensation that he was only one step away from total collapse, and a breath away from going completely mad. Yami was wheezing, forcing the breath out from his chest that seemed strangely frozen, and it made him feel sick and light-headed. Trembling, he sank down into the wooden chair, elbows splayed awkardly to keep him from melting to the floor, hardly aware of the tears that were sliding down his twitching cheeks. He felt like he was drowning in the overwhelming tide of memories, the breaking waves of rage and bitterness, and harsh realization of how truly lost and alone he was.

"Yami?" Solomon's compassionate inquiry made him jerk in alarm, and he wrenched his head up to face him, anger blazing forth at the intrusion of such a private, vulnerable moment.  
The old man only gave him a tired look of kind understanding, as he sat down across Yami, forcing back the chuckle at seeing Yami's eyes bulge with indignant shame.  
"Exactly how long do you expect to carry this misery and not destroy yourself?" Yami looked up at him, the violet eyes storming with so much naked pain that Solomon winced.

"You don't understand, sir." Yami's soft answer was barely above a whisper, as he drew himself away in a gesture of retreat.

"I'll understand it better if you explain it to me, Yami. It's obvious that you're suffering. Can speaking of your pain possibly make it more unbearable than it is now?" Solomon's completely rational answer of the obvious made Yami blanche, as he shifted uncomfortably. "I honestly don't know, sir. I've been infused with this for so long, that I truly do not see how any healing is possible. I feel like I am damned to live this way forever."

"Utter nonsense!" groused Solomon as his scowl deepened beneith his bushy mustache, to hide his fear over the sheer hopelessness that seemed to bleed out from Yami's slumped, defeated posture, and the dead accepting resignation that bowed his head so sadly.

"You do not know what I have lived through, sir." Solomon sighed, with a shake of his head. "My boy, if you have lived through it, then it should be over with, correct?"

"But it isn't!" Yami drew a trembling hand across the scars that crowned his neck, not noticing the narrowed eyes of Solomon as he stared at the horrible aftermath of a cruelty he could not begin to fathom. Yami stewed in his anguished thoughts. Even after all this time, it was still just as vivid and alive as it was when he was first sealed away, and he honestly did not know if he was drifting into depravity or madness. Both prospects terrified him.

"Yami, I am not trying to force you to relive something that you honestly aren't ready to face, and I'm not interested in your suffering for any selfish purpose. I want to know about it because it's hurting you. Now, are you going to tell me what's breaking you apart, or are you going to force it down until it consumes you?" Solomon berated himself when he saw the tremor that rattled Yami's tense frame at the horrible thought his last words gave him. What if the Puzzle had succeeded in consuming him already?

"I fear that I am too far gone to come back to myself, sir." The despair in Yami's voice as the poor king crumbled even further made Solomon lean forward, grip the shaking fist in between his own, and attempt to draw Yami away from the churning torment he was so readily drinking in. It was Yami's strangled cry of alarm that stopped him.  
With panicked hands, now slimed with sweat, Yami shoved him away, with a pleading shake of his head.

"Don't. I will tell you everything, sir. But, please, please, don't...I can't stand being touched...it's too overwhelming... it only leads to more pain..." Independent of his will,  
Yami's fingers clawed at his scars, as his eyes took on the sickening glaze of rising terror and madness. Solomon hastily backed away, as Yami started quivering anew,  
his eyes going wide and unseeing except for whatever horrible nightmare that was storming across his pounding heart and panicking thoughts. The pounding of his heart,  
the raging, searing fear, the cloying despair, and the roaring chorus of all the memories bleeding into one high pitched scream forced him to fold into himself, in blind submission, as his legs finally gave way, and he slid quietly into a heap under the table. He vaguely heard Solomon crying his name, felt the old man's hands attempting to force him onto his back, but the shadows that had been waiting for his collapse finally overwhelmed him and took him under completely.

Normally, Seto Kaiba and compassion were as well linked as oil and fire-volital, and completely out of character for his icy veneer, and general distain for the world, and the luxury to afford it. He had no intentions towards the meandering people around him but to ignore them if they weren't gracious enough to go away on their own. He paid them little mind as he resumed his rapid-fire stacatto typing on his labtop, and was soon lost in his latest business plans for his company.

So, he was quite annoyed when he heard the cheery, and much-irritating greeting of Yugi Moto, complete with a happy wave and an inocence he would normally associate with some form of fluffy, defenseless bunny in a cartoon. Still, annoying as the runt was, he was harmless, and not truly deserving of the sneer Seto found himself biting his cheek to keep down. He settled for a nod, and a grunt of acknowledgment, hoping that Yugi would get the hint without forcing him to be blunt. The whole reason why Seto had perched himself on the park bench on this nice day was to be alone and get some damn work done. He sighed inwardly when he saw Yugi slide onto the park bench, and begin eagerly chattering about something Kaiba could care less about...duel monsters and what not, complete with a neat little summary about Tea's latest dance competition, and Joey Wheeler's latest detention. Yugi looked as if Kaiba had kicked him when his only reply was a sarcastic, "Yay," before he turned back to his labtop, with a pointed look at Yugi to leave. "Um...well, you look busy...So, I'll guess I'll see you around, Kaiba. Good-bye"  
Yugi awkwardly muttered as he slunk away in wounded embarrassment. He was only trying to be friendly after all!

Seto did not trouble himself to look up from his work, but the flurry of motion caught his eye, and he instinctively jerked his head up to see what had caused the blur of frenzy. He watched to see Yugi abruptly stagger a few feet and then collapse, with a cry, landing on his knees, and curling up in a defensive gesture. Seto studied him for a moment with a raised eyebrow, wondering what the hell he had tripped on and why he wasn't getting back up, when the troubling thought occurred to him that maybe he couldn't. Yugi felt as if something inside had shattered, and the dismay from the sudden,  
blinding pain almost made him faint. He lay there, face down and panting, wondering if he was dying, or if he had had a stroke.  
It made no sense, but his mind was so besieged by the effort to breathe, that he did not trouble himself beyond that. He heard footsteps, saw a shadow darkening over his face, and heard the irritated sigh, as he was abruptly drawn up in strong arms and rolled over on his back. Seto's face was cloaked by the bright sun overhead, and Yugi had to shake his head a few times to make out the icy eyes narrowed into concerned slits, and the normally stern mouth drawn downwards in a rare show of worry. "Yugi? What the hell is wrong with you? Are you hurt?" Seto's demand was only answered by a confused shake of head and a helpless shrug as Yugi attempted to speak. "I don't know, Kaiba...all of the sudden, I felt this hurt, and I fell. It's gone now, but it felt so.  
weird." Seto's eyes narrowed even more as he snapped, in irritation. "Do you need a doctor?" Yugi shook his head. "Um, no, I'm alright." Seto barked out the order of "Wait here," as he spun on his heel to retrieve his labtop. With a curled lip, he came back to Yugi's side, and Yugi was shocked when he offered a hand to help Yugi rise. "Um, thank you." Seto only sighed, and hauled Yugi to his feet, even lingering at his side to make sure he was steady enough to walk. Yugi felt faint, but otherwise, alright. Seto crossed his arms in irritation,  
and scowled as he barked out. "Well, Yugi, get moving. I don't have long to drive you home." Yugi's jaw dropped as he looked up at Seto in absolute shock. He would have been less suprised if the sun rose in the west. "Thanks, Kaiba, but you don't have to drive me anywhere"  
"I am well aware of that, Yugi. Which is why I told you to get moving." The gruff reply made Yugi nod, meekly, uncertainly trailing

Kaiba's long strides over to the majestic car, as Kaiba unlocked the doors with an efficient button on his golden keyring. Without looking at Yugi, he glided into the front seat, and Yugi uncomfortably slid into the front seat with a gulp. This was certainly unexpected... 


	21. Stepping out of the Shadows

Solomon bellowed Yami's name over, and over again, shaking the slender frame as gently as he could force himself to. Yami lay limp, unresponsive, and so eerily still.

Solomon stared down at him, torn in helpless panic for a brief moment, before he straightened with a grunt, and sensibly stooped to lift Yami out from underneith the table.

Solomon grimaced with the effort, but soon realized there was no way to lift him without risking a strained back. So, he settled for dragging Yami gently across the floor

until he could half scoop, half drag the poor boy to the couch a few steps away. With as consideration for Yami as he could manage, Solomon hefted the boy high, and then

dumped him slowly onto the couch. Solomon turned towards the bedroom, to grab a pillow and some blankets, which he tucked around Yami with an efficiency brought by

long years of doing the same for his grandson when he was sick. Hesitantly, he placed a palm over Yami's drawn forehead and was struck by how cool it felt. His breathing

and pulse were not a cause for alarm. He went to the kitchen, ran cool water over a washcloth, then returned to drape it across Yami's forehead. He sent up a quick

prayer that Yami had only fainted and there was nothing more amiss, but he had no way of knowing. If the boy showed no sign of rousing, Solomon resolved to take

him to the hospital, and let a medical expert deal with this sort of situation. He was relieved to hear the soft groan from Yami, as he writhed against the blankets as if

he were fighting an unseen restraint. After a bone-rattling shudder, Yami whimpered, and went limp again. Solomon stooped over him, called his name, as Yami's face

twitched in response, and he whispered, "Shimon?" Solomon gave a tolerant smile as he rubbed the golden bangs away from Yami's forehead. "No, my boy, it's Solomon.

I believe you fainted." Yami's eyes fluttered open, slowly, the violet hazed over with confused stupor, his hands straying to his throat, his body tensed as a coil as he

forced out, "Wha...fainted? How.."

"Easy, Yami. There's no point in working yourself up. It happens." Solomon soothed quietly, as Yami grew more aware of the situation by increments. "How do you feel,

Yami?" Yami's eyebrows quirked as he struggled to answer. Lost, Sick, Weak, Afraid, and Ashamed were the thoughts that imediately came to mind. He settled for an

honest, non alarming word, "Tired. How did I get here?" He gestured towards the blanket, and ventured a hand to see what was the cooling sensation on his forehead.

He pulled off the damp, rolled rag in confusion. "Do I have a fever, sir? Is that why I am laying down?" Solomon continued to ruffle the golden bangs,and was pleased to feel

Yami relax. "I don't believe you are ill, Yami, I believe that you are hurt. Do you feel sick, or anything?" Yami shook his head, slowly. "No, sir. I...if it is alright, I would prefer

to sit up." Solomon nodded permission, and was pleased to see Yami heave himself upright with little effort, though he was tangled in the blankets. When Yami started to

stand, Solomon gently forced him back to the couch, with a forbidding shake of his head. "I think it best that you take it easy, Yami." Yami stared up at him, for a long moment,

before settling back down on the couch, swathing the blanket around his knees, the torment returning as he stared up at Solomon. "Why are you helping me, sir? Is this

another manifestation of the Puzzle?" As Solomon's offended huff, Yami recoiled, and buried his face in his hands. "I...I am sorry...I just don't know what is real, and

I don't know how much more of this I will be able to endure. Do you believe that I am going mad?"

Solomon was forced to look away from those searching eyes, as he worked his mouth into what he hoped was a paternal smile of dismissal and concern.

"Nonsense, my boy. You've suffered. Suffering doesn't lead to madness in all situations. In fact, I am sure it is very rare!" Yami's eyes narrowed at the hesitation before

the answer, and he looked as if he has been struck by some unseen blow. "I mean no disrespect, sir, but you don't believe that yourself. Why would you lie to me about it?"

The question was almost growled at Solomon, as Yami only curled deeper into his misery, with an indifferent shrug. " I understand that you are trying to be kind about this

situation, that there is absolutely no point of reference that you can apply to know if this is right. But don't you see? It only confirms my belief that everything about me is..

unfit for this world." Solomon clasped a hand over the bent shoulder. "You would only be unfit for this world if you were a monster, Yami. Which you most certainly are not.

You are certainly not insane, my boy, but I'm not sure that you are really in a good...position right now to be rational. You have been through quite a trauma,and it might

be best if you simply lay back down and rest for a while. Almost everything looks better after a long nap, you know." Yami shivered, and stared up at him with so much

blind, wrenching fear and pain for a moment. "Are you going to force me into slumber, sir?" Solomon stared down at him, raised an eyebrow, buried his quaking hands in

the blankets that he was preparing to arrange, hoping it hid his horror at the question."Whatever do you mean, Yami? I was just going to let you fall asleep on the couch,

unless you had some other idea?" Yami looked at him, lost, and completely unable to even attempt to answer. He could only stare, and quiver, and try not to collapse

and shatter beyond repair."Yami," said Solomon in weary patience. "I promise you, you are safe here, and nobody is going to hurt you. I don't know how to convince you

of that, but I won't force you to do anything. Now, do you want to lay down, or do you want me to find something to help you sleep?" Yami just gulped, heavily, and tried

to mentally uncoil the confused noose of anguish, and convince his tensed and aching muscles to relax against all his instincts. With a weary sigh,he muttered, in a low

voice, "I would prefer to drift to sleep on my own, sir." Solomon nodded, as he offered Yami an extra pillow. Yami took it, and hesitated, before he lay it down in a more

accomodating position for his head. "Why are you doing this, sir?" Yami's question made Solomon stop his arranging of the blankets, and he watched Yami draw his knees

to his chest in almost fetal position. Solomon said nothing for a moment, as he draped the slight form with the blanket, careful not to make its tucking in any way confining.

"Because you need it, Yami. What other reason does a person need beside that?" Yami raised a worried eyebrow, but settled himself into a more comfortable position.

"Kindness is never a reason behind a person's motives, sir. But I thank you for this anyway." His voice was already muffled from his head being cradled over the pillow, and

Solomon watched as Yami took three breaths and smiled when he heard the snore that announced the young king was indeed resting peacefully. Solomon sighed, and sat

back as he turned on the soft lamp in the darkened room, to maintain his quiet vigil over the sleeping boy.

Solomon must have dozed off himself, because he was startled awake by the bang of the front door, and the cheery sound of Yugi's greeting as he lit through the entry way,

and then skidded to a stop when he saw Yami curled up and buried under the blankets, and Solomon slumped in the chair beside him. Solomon waved a hand in warning,

hissing and putting a silencing finger over his own lips in emphasis, as Yugi stared down at Yami with concern. "Grandpa? Is he alright?" Solomon nodded. "Of course, he is

Yugi. Is there something so wrong with him taking a nap?" Yugi glanced at his grandfather, clearly concerned. He opened his mouth, but was interrupted by the gruff

announcement of Kaiba entering the room with a purposeful stride, hands on his hips, his long coat flaring behind him, and his eyes scathing their irritated inspection

of the humble surroundings. He grimaced further at the sound of Yugi's apologetic stammering, as he fluttered a hand towards Seto by way of introduction. Solomon peered up

at the intruder in his living room, warily. Kaiba force himself to nod politely, call the old man Mr. Moto, and flung a deck of duel monster cards on the table closest to Yami.

"You left your deck in my car, Yugi."

Seto opted to spare himself any awkward lingering, and fully intended to leave, when his eyes fell on the crouched form that was cradled under the blankets. Yami's distinctive

gold bangs shadowed his face, and concealed his tight features, but Seto was struck by the strange resemblance to Yugi. "Who is this?" Yugi sent a panicked look to

Solomon, who smoothly rose, and shifted protectively between Yami and Seto. "This is Yami, Seto. A distant cousin of Yugi's who is staying around to help me with the

game shop for the time being. Now, if you don't mind, kindly leave him be. He's sleeping as you can see." Seto raised a questioning eyebrow, knowing he was being

lied to, but saw no reason to pursue the reasons why. With that, he spun on his heel, and strode out of the room without so much as a backwards glance. Yami stirred, and flinched, and

Solomon hastily put a soothing hand over his forehead. He heard Yami sigh and roll over, muttering something.

--

It was later that night that Yami had recovered enough of his wits to attempt an explanation of his strange

behavior to the Motos. Yugi had apparently been sternly warned by Solomon not to pry into Yami's thoughts, evidenced by the almost shy, guarded restraint Yugi treated him with for the rest of the time. Solomon had said nothing of his distress, only that he expected Yami to rest.

There was no demand for answers, though he could sense Yugi's growing frustration, and Solomon's alarm. And what hurt the most was that Yami

had not done anything wrong to deserve this sort of secrecy...as if his blood had been tainted by the violence against it, and there was nothing

more to be done for its redemption. But, Solomon had offered him a listening ear, and Yugi had given him complete acceptance without question.

Yami had not felt that safe in conversing with anybody since Isis, and that was over 5000 years ago.

So, that was how Yami found himself huddled on the couch, with a cup of tea gripped between his shaking hands, as he was flanked by Solomon

on one side, and Yugi on the other, near enough that he felt safe, and sheltered, but not so chokingly close he felt trapped. From his uncertain

glance seeking permission to speak from Yugi, to his shivering acceptance of Solomon's steadying hand over his spine, it was clear that he was

almost at the end of his limits, and it terrified him. He stared at the two drawn faces of the Motos, twisted in concern, and gentle regard, but he honestly did not know how long that would remain after he finished telling them everything. Would they think he was mad? Would they

hurt him? He could not imagine either one of them willfully seeking to harm anybody, but he was honestly too shattered and despairing at the

moment to even begin to wonder what he would do if they did. He only buried his head in his hands. Even now, among friends, he could not for

the love of Ra stop driving himself insane with all this torture he kept inflicting on himself. Maybe he deserved no less for being so weak, he honestly didn't know any more.

With one hand twisting itself over and over against the rim of the mug, and the other gripping the cup to the breaking point, Yami sighed, deeply, and twitched underneith Yugi's gentle hand patting his back, but he forced a smile. Ra, could they not see how he feared and hated being touched

so unexpectedly? With one more sip of tea, Yami set the cup down, his hands now twisting the blanket in his anxious figiting, he began his story.

" I feel that I owe you both an apology and an explanation for my erratic and disturbing behaviour. It was completely out of my control, and I'm

embarrassed to say that I could not stop it at the time. I know that it is a matter of concern for you both to wonder why I am so emotionally distraught, and why I cannot stand the hands of a friend upon me, or why I panick, or the scars about my neck came to be. When I am done telling

you all of this, you may understand a bit more, or I may only confirm how truly mad I fear myself to be."

Yugi only offered him a kind smile. " Yami, whatever you've been through, it's over. You are here, with us, now. You're not alone, Yami. We're here

to help you through this."

"We'll see if you retain that sentiment after I've told you the whole truth, Yugi." Yami muttered darkly. Straightening, he thrust his chin upward, in its

characteristic raised posture, the proper, cold court manners coming forth to help him speak as Pharoah, because he knew that even attempting

to talk as Yami would only cause him to break down. He took a deep breath, and sat back.

"I am honestly at a loss as to how to begin any of this. If there's any specific questions I may answer?" He waited politely, as Solomon and Yugi

exchanged uncertain glances. Yugi then tactlessly blurted out, "How did you get your scars?" Solomon scowled at his grandson, with a shake of his head, and Yugi looked ashamed as soon as the words left his mouth. Yami flinched, but managed to keep his voice steady, and his hands away from his neck. "I was murdered, Yugi." Yugi gasped in shock, and Solomon visibly paled. Yugi stared at the scars, not speaking for a long, tense

moment, before he raised violet eyes full of understanding compassion to him, and whispered, "I'm sorry, Yami."

Yami awkwardly swallowed. "It was a long time ago...I have moved on a bit from that, I assure you." Solomon gave him a sharp glance, but said

nothing. "How did it happen, Yami?" Solomon's blunt question startled Yami, and he cringed at the harsh tone.

"I can tell you how, Yugi. But I cannot tell you why." Yami answered softly. "It...was not expected." And, with those halting, tortured words, Yami

told them all that had transpired, from the discovery of the shadow games, to his laying himself down as a sacrifice to the torment and the

delusions brought about by the Puzzle, and his subsequent ressurection in the modern world. "I do not know why my high priest betrayed me so. Granted, my death was necessary, and in a sense, I was consenting. But to be at his mercy, and experience that anguish...suffice it to say that if the physical aftermath around my neck makes you cringe, then you would find life inside the Puzzle to be hellish."

"What exactly is it like inside there, Yami?" Yugi asked curiously. Yami bowed his head, searching for an answer. "Imagine a labyrith of gold, littered with your fragmented memories, and each one of those precious moments open to the cruelest manipulation possible. I experienced things that I knew never happened in my life. I watched my father beat me senseless, my loved ones betray me with depravity, and I felt my own

core shatter and fragment until I was left quivering in terror of even breathing, I was so afraid of triggering more of the Puzzle's abuse. It's darkness,

and greed and feeling both of them consume you. But what was worse was its constant torment...hinting to me that I could be delivered, but never allowing me to be free, forcing me to fight but relishing the defeat because it knew I was defenseless. It reads my thoughts, it drinks my pain..and I had no recourse, no relief from any of it, for so long...For a long time, it had me convinced that I was sealed away as a punishment for a past

treachery that I committed...and since my memories have been so mutilated by it, I had no way of knowing the truth from a lie. For so long,

all of everything that I knew and loved was locked away, lost, abused,...violated...and it sickened me, to see my most intimant, precious moments

that made who I was as a person so viciously displayed and destroyed..." Yami's face crumpled as the tears started streaming down his cheeks again. "And even though I'm safe, and free from that hell, I'm still so afraid that this is not real, that it will all be taken away, and I'll wake up from

this nightmare only to be tortured again. And even now, I feel just as trapped and broken as I did when I was sealed away, and I don't know if

that will ever heal!" Timidly, Yugi put an arm over Yami's quaking shoulder, and was pleased to see Yami lean into the offered embrace, as he

tried not to howl like an animal. Yami felt Solomon's reassuring hand over his own, and almost sobbed from the relief in it not fading away,

or rounding about him to hurt him somehow. It was exhausting, the mental taxing, Yami fighting his instinct to claw his way out of the encircling

arms, but Yami found the strength to allow his tensed body to relax, and he was so relieved to feel safe finally.

"We'll get you through this, my boy. You're going to be alright." Yami did not answer Solomon's promise, but for the first time, allowed himself to

have faith that it was possible. Perhaps it was, after all, Yami mused, as he felt the urge to flee yielding into peace.


	22. Unprovoked

Catharsis...

It was only after telling the horrible story, and weeping so long and so much that his throat was left raw and burning that he was left trembling from the exhaustion, but not so much fear. He flinched again, at the steadying hand at his back, but because it felt cold and strange, not unwelcome and torturing. Neither Moto had said anything to him through the entire ordeal, preferring instead to engulf him in protective arms when he was too overcome to speak.

Yami had not been held during his tears since Isis, and after so long, it felt so welcome to know that he was no longer alone in facing so much of his fragmented past, and dismantled present. He felt the steadying comfort, unwavering, with no judgement as Yugi only smiled at him, and Solomon kept muttering soothing words, and maintained his steady, gently thumping against his spine. 

"Yami, my boy, you did a very brave thing today. Now do you believe me when I tell you that you are no longer alone?"

Yami nodded, unable to speak from the sobs of relief that threatened to break forth again. He only answered by clasping Solomon's hand in his own, and peering into his eyes. Yugi only stared at him, wide-eyed, carefully gaging the Pharoah's reaction as he shifted to relinguish the grip on his arm. Yami craned his neck, and gave Yugi a reassuring smile that he was free to let him go.

"Yami? How are you feeling?" Yami flinched at Yugi's voice reverberating through his head, and cocked an eyebrow at him, curiously.

"Yugi? Why are you using the mindlink to speak to me?"

"I don't know. I just think it's neat, and I'm really worried about you. Are you alright?"

Yami nodded. "I feel as if a great burden has been removed from my shoulders, and that for the first time, I have hope that mayhaps my life is more than just hopeless wonderings, and solitude. I don't know how I can thank you or your grandfather for this, Yugi. It means more than I can tell, and I hope that one day, I may repay you for your kindness."

Yugi frowned at him, shaking his head, slightly.

" Yami, consider it payback. I remember what you did for me...you kept me from being sliced to ribbons when that Puzzle, or nightmare tried to kill me! I would hardly consider treating you with a bit of decency a debt that anybody should owe, anyway. Yami...can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, you may, Yugi. What is it?"

Yugi hesitated, then the wary question floated through Yami's mind.

"If the Puzzle had actually killed me in that dream...does that mean that I would have been dead in this world, too?"

Yami shuddered, and Yugi hastily apologized, when he heard the vehemant hiss of rage thundering down the mindlink.

"If that bedamned piece of gold even considers touching you with any intent to harm you, I would break it into pieces myself."

Yugi cringed at the sheer heat of the fury that poured forth from Yami, as the Pharoah turned to glare at the Puzzle, his eyes dripping venom, and promise.

"Yami, I'm sorry for bringing that up. I know how hard this is for you..."

Yami glared at Yugi, and stiffened, in retort, "I dare say you do not, Yugi. Forgive my blunt answer, but you truly have no idea what it is like in there, nor would I ever wish you to know. "

"So, why can't you be free of all that, then? Why don't you just stay out of the Puzzle? "

Yami actually choked in shock, as he gaped openly at Yugi. "It is not that simple, Yugi. Remember, I was sealed away to keep the shadows in their place. If I leave the Puzzle permanently, then they would be free to destroy your world as they almost did mine. The Puzzle is also my tether to this existance...the substance that keeps me 'alive' if you would call this state living."

Yugi looked horrified, and Yami grunted in annoyance at both the high pitched panic, and the torrent of new questions that flooded his mind, "So what the heck does that mean?That you are doomed to be a slave to that Puzzle for eternity, and you live in a nightmare forever? What would happen if I smashed the Puzzle right now? Would you be free, then?"

"I...don't know. Isis never told me what would happen if the Puzzle was actually destroyed, but you saw what happened to me when just one piece was removed. I was injured along with the Puzzle. That is no solution, anyway. What if breaking the Puzzle also breaks the barriers between this world and the shadows, Yugi? Would you risk that much suffering to so many just to liberate me? It...would not be right."

"No," came back the relunctant answer from Yugi." But it's not fair that you have to suffer so much with no hope of being free, Yami."

"There is always hope, Yugi. Maybe it is a false hope, or a foolish one. But I would take that small chance of believing, rather than dwelling in despair and futility. That is truly what breaks the haunted, Yugi."

Yugi couldn't help but shiver at Yami's last words. Yami saw his fear, and shook his head in a desperate attempt to spare Yugi from any more trauma.

"It must have been horrible for you to be trapped in that thing, Yami. I...have no idea how you manage to keep it together so well."

Yami looked at him sadly.

"If I had it "together" as you put it, I would not have been hysterical over spilt tea, or panic when somebody attempts a comforting embrace."

"Maybe." Came Yugi's soft, considering reply. "But you're not broken, Yami. You're hurt, but not shattered, not completely. You know that, right?"

Yami looked down, at his hands still knotted into fists, the scars at his neck itching as if in memory, the instinctive clench of his body, even though his mind was beginning to finally understand that it was safe.

"I am beginning to understand that, Yugi. It will...take time."

"Yeah..."Yugi's sad, relunctant acknowledgement was delivered with a weary, accepting smile. "  
But, you took a big step tonight, Yami. You're going to be alright."

And, now, for the Kaiba lovers...

Seto Kaiba bolted awake, the shiver of fear threading its way like ice down his quaking back, his hands fisted in rebelling grip against the silk sheets, as he bleerily attempted to clear the aftermath of the horrible nightmare from his head. For tortured moments, he lingered between the waking and the sleeping, before he grunted and heaved himself to his feet. He dropped his unsteady feet uncerimoniously to the floor, flung the covers away in disgust, as he pulled a robe around his slender frame, noting with a grimace that he was still shaking. What the hell was going on? He remembered only frustrated fragments of the nightmare...

There was blood on his hands, testimony to the brutal aftermath of the blade he was dumbly staring at, as it hovered above the slashed throat of the body beneith him. From the crumpled, violet eyes, to the ruby-tinted hair, it resembled Yugi, except that Yugi was alive, and this had to be some horrible dream.  
It was sickening to see so much scarlet flooding from the gaping wound, and he could not understand why the hell he would have done this...if he had done this.  
There was no indication of where he was, but the glint of flickering torches in their sconzes, and the dark bricks around them. He felt as if he were already entombed in this underground chamber. There was the waiting hush, as he heard the horrified gasp of the woman who was bowed with grief over the body of the young man, as she rose, and rounded on him like an incensed cat. She hissed out something in a language he did not understand, her eyes narrowed and growing ebony with the bizarre rising of the dark shadows that seemed to radiate from her very core. He could feel the darkness, hungry and waiting impatiently glide up his limbs, his torpid resistance melting into complete paralysis, as he was swallowed in agony. The last sight he saw before the closing of the light was the satisfied smirk that grace the woman's lips as she nodded in dismissal, as if he were deserving of this suffering.

Seto hauled his exhausted body to the bathroom,scowled at the reflection in the mirror, glanced at the late hour of the clock, and with an exhausted sigh. Insomnia was certainly the last thing he needed, he groused, as he opened the medicine cabinet, ruffling through the assorted bottles to see what sort of pill he could find to remedy it.  
Normally, he despised taking sleeping pills, considered it an admission of weakness. But, staring at the flamed veins in his bleery eyes, and the weariness, he allowed himself this one time excuse. He tilted the bottle to his lips, shook two pills out, swallowed them raw, and stumbled back to bed, pulling the covers over his shoulder, and waiting for the pills to work. His last thought was of the strange resemblance the corpse had to Yugi. He rolled over with a grunt of dismissal, and went to sleep.

It was a serene day at the game shop. There were a few customers puttering about, mostly mothers with their young children, and a few teenagers. Yami was perched beside Yugi at the counter, curiously watching the various people as they wondered around, eyes widening to see a teenager with a green-mohawk and a lip piercing look up to see him staring at him. Yami tensed, but relaxed when the teenager only gave him a polite smile and resumed his browsing. Yugi chuckled in amusement.It was a relief to see Yami actually enjoying himself, as he sat in silent observation. Yami had disgarded his flowing tunics in favor of a pair of dark denim jeans, and a long-sleeved, dark shirt. His sandals were exchanged for a pair of pointed boots that he kept gawking at, uncertainly. They fit comfortably, but he was not used to socks, or even having a shoe of any sort covering his toes. The jeans were suitable, and he enjoyed having pockets to place things in, or a safe place to hide his figiting hands. The long sleeves of the shirt felt strange, as he was used to having his arms bare, but the material was soft, and comfortable. Perhaps the strangest thing he was wearing was the black leather collar that sported a silver buckle that was encircling his neck. This had been a gift from Yugi, when he saw Yami staring at his scars, and running fingers over the ugly ridges against his flesh. He knew that Yugi didn't care one way or the other that he had them, but Yami had insisted on concealing them, even to the point of attempting to arrive at the game shop with a scarf wrapped around his neck. Rather than arguing, Yugi simply presented the Pharoah with the collar. Yami, deeply touched,put it on imediately, and was satisfied that it hid the marks of his demise. It was certainly more comfortable than having several feet of material draping about his neck.

Yami seemed to be adjusting to the strange, new world he was now residing in. He no longer panicked when something triggered a flashback, he no longer lay around the house looking like a gutted animal, and the depression and the fear that once threatened his sanity seemed to be losing their grip over him with each day's passing. Yugi was certainly impressed with Yami's social graces in interactions with the modern world, as well. He was unfailingly polite to any woman who entered the shop, opening the door with a bow, smiling kindly at small children, and even greeting people on his own inititive. Solomon was most pleased to hear the compliments of Yami's good manners, and it was good to see him gradually opening up. No longer was he so broken and lost.

The sound of the chimes above the door rang out merrily, announcing the entrance of another customer. Seto Kaiba's eyes twitched upward in annoyance at the silverchimes dangling downward and nearly whacking him in the head. He enjoyed his height most of the time, but he hated chimes, bells, and anything else that made such a damn racket needlessly. It wasn't as if the Motos were blind and needed the sound to announce his arrival. His eyes swept over the humble shop, his lip curling in discomfort. He sincerely didn't want to be here, but his brother's insatiable desire for a rare card that he could not find on his own had forced him to take drastic measures..like entering the Game Shop. He saw the elderly Moto hunched over the glass counter, carefully polishing the display case and arranging the cards in neat little lines for easier viewing. Yugi was wearing his usual smile, which deepened Kaiba's scowl. It was unnatural for anybody to be that happy all the time unless they were on severe medication. And Seto knew that Yugi was completely ignorant of what modern day marvels a bit of chemical enhancement could do.

"Oh, I didn't see you there. Hi, Seto!" Seto rolled his eyes to hear the cheery, and completely unwanted greeting ringing out from Yugi, complete with a happy wave.Turning back, Seto forced a polite nod, hoping the runt would just leave him be. Seto's eyes narrowed as he saw the young man that was slumbering on the Moto's couch when he had the misfortune of having to drop off Yugi's cards. It was eerie, to see the same glistening spikes, the flaming gold and red crowning his bowed head, and the violet eyes roving aimlessly through a magazine, as he flipped a page. Seto studied him for a moment, and saw that despite the fact the two were certainly related via their strange hair and eye color, the young man was definitely different from Yugi. Yugi had that open inocence about him, those wide eyes and gently rounded cheeks with the smiling mouth. This stranger had an angular face, with sharp cheek bones and narrowed chin and eyes. This stranger seemed to be older, and Seto recognized the weary lines of care that seemed to permiate him. He had a hardened look about him.

"Seto? Would you like me to introduce you to my cousin, Yami?"

Yugi was already heading his way, as Seto lurched back to reality. Seto grimaced, and shook his head.

"I'm here to get my card and leave, Yugi, not meet and greet your entire family." Seto muttered, irritated by the unnecessary delay, and certainly not in the mood to endure forced social pleasantries. "Now, will you leave me alone so I can get my damn card?" Yugi looked wounded, and Seto might have apologized if he could summon any sort of regret beyond his annoyance. "Of course, Seto. I'm sorry."

Yugi's soft voice drifted away as he slank off, hurt and embarrassed, to look for the card in the back room.

Yugi was in the storage area for no longer than a few minutes when he heard Seto's shout of dismay, the sound of something colliding with the floor, an ugly snarl, and the reverberation of a fist cracking against somebody's flesh, with somebody else grunting and gasping in pain. Yugi flew out into the room, and gawked in shock at the scene unfolding.

Seto was sprawled out on the floor, his long coat tangled with his splayed limbs, as he struggled to rise. A thin trickle of blood was dribbling down his chin from his nose,and he had one hand cradling the wounded bone in protection as he glared daggers at his attacker, the promise of retribution very clear as he sneered and stood, not allowing even a wince at the pain that now radiated from his broken nose.

Yugi stared in disbelief when he saw who had inflicted so much damage to Kaiba. Yami stood rigidly, one fist raised, the knuckles bloody, his teeth bared like an animal, the rage clouding his eyes, and his whole frame trembling, as he gazed intently at Kaiba, crouching like a panther ready to spring again.

Kaiba, by then, had picked himself up off the floor, and was quite ready to retaliate against the bastard who had simply walked over and slugged him. The unprovoked attack had completely blindsided him,and pissed him off mightily.

"Yami?! What the heck has gotten into you? Did you just punch Kaiba?!" Yugi's high-pitched question was squealed out.

Yami tood staring at Kaiba, but Kaiba eagerly confirmed Yugi's fears with the sarcastic observation of "No, Yugi, he was trying to teach me how to dance. Yes, he just punched me, you little runt! Why else would I be sprawled on the floor and bleeding?!"

Yugi only stared up at Kaiba in disbelief. "But why did you hit him, Yami?!"

Author's note:

This will be continued as soon as possible. But it is now 1:00 am in the morning, and I need to sleep. 


	23. Confusion

"How dare you come near him after what you put me through, you serpent!! It's not enough that you haunt me, you threaten Yugi as well?!" Yami

hissed in ancient Egyptian, as he curled his fingers into ever-tightening fists in sheer, undiluted rage at this manifestation of Seth that had so

viciously shattered the precious peace he had found.

Kaiba's eyes narrowed in curt appraisal, as he dangled his bloodied fingers in front of his face, but they bulged in shock when his attacker started snarling out the strange babble, and striding forward with both fists raised, quite intent on beating the hell out of him. Kaiba was no coward, of course. But taking on an enraged pyscho who had already broken his nose might not be wise. He did not back away, but watched him.

Yugi, being his noble, idiodotic self, flew in between the two of them, shielding his face with such small hands, as if he were fully expecting bruises from both sides of the combatants. But, Kaiba made no move to strike. As angry as he was, it simply wasn't in him to subject Yugi to punishment because of his lunatic cousin. He respected the runt's courage, even if he considered it a stupid move. When Yami suddenly lurched forward, putting Yugi in range of his very efficient fists, Kaiba sighed in disgust, snatched Yugi by the wrist. Yugi yelped to find himself dangling in the air for a brief moment before Kaiba uncerimoniously dumped him on the floor behind him.

"Don't you think it wise to stay the hell out of his way, Yugi?" Kaiba's silken growl came as Yugi was presented with Kaiba's warily straightening back, as he folded his arms, and raised an eyebrow at Yami in challenge.

Kaiba watched as Yami's face twisted from sheer rage to unwilling confusion at the action of him throwing Yugi behind his back. Was that not a protective gesture? It was Yugi who was staring at him with so much fear, not Seth. And, this person who so resembled Seth only studied him, coldly, with no fear, but cool indifference, despite the splintered nose. Yami had felt the bone yielding under his knuckles, and he had to grudgingly

admit the stranger was definitely an expert at concealing pain.

"Seto? I'm sorry about this...Yami's been through quite a bit, and I don't think he really knows how to interact with people.." Yugi's awkward apology

made Seto raise an eyebrow even higher, with a dry chuckle.

"Obviously. But do you really expect me to believe that you're safe around him?" Kaiba snapped bitterly.

From the very scared look on his face, to the sudden backward steps towards Kaiba, it was obvious that the poor boy had not considered any possibility that he was actually in any danger.

Yami looked both wounded and suprised to see this, but Yugi gulped when he saw the Pharoah's eyes slide shut, as he bowed his head, and started trembling. Yugi attempted the mindlink, but felt his thought crash like a wave against some mental barrier, and fall back into his own thoughts like breaking fire. Yugi recoiled with a wince.

"Yami? Are you alright?" Yugi's voice somehow pierced through the strange roaring that had engulfed Yami, and he heard the call of his name echocing somewhere outside the confines of his mind, as he fought to move, to breathe, to indicate to Yugi that he was not a monster. But, he stood, paralyzed and tremoring, eyes closed hopelessly as if he had mutated from being of flesh and blood to stone and ice.

Despite Kaiba's warning cry, Yugi scrambled forward, gripped one of the rigid arms between his two imploring hands, as he shook Yami until he

jerked like a branch caught in the wind, but nothing seemed to pull him from the strange, disorienting stupor. Yami did not move, only trembled, in the eerie, numbed fog.

Seto stared at Yugi hopelessly pleading for a reaction from his cousin, and wondered if his cousin was somehow a nutjob. It mattered little to him, but he found the dramatics of Yugi irritating, not to mention that he would be a slimeball if he left now. With a resigned sigh, Seto stepped forward, gave Yami a flying belt to the cheek, and watched as he reeled from the blow, and brought one hand to his quaking cheek, bringing his

wide, vancant eyes to stare at Kaiba.

"Kaiba!" Yugi squawked, "That's enough! I know he hit you first,but this won't solve anything!"

"Oh?" The sarcastic purr was very smug as Kaiba and Yugi watched Yami stare rather stupidly at them, his eyebrows climbing behind the golden bangs, his jaw dropped in astonishment, and one hand cupping the reddened cheek. The realization flooded his eyes with cloudy awareness, as he

turned to Seto, his voice thick, and low with astonishment. "You...you are not Seth! But then, how..."

Oh, no. If Yami's heart could have slid out of his body, and he could have melted into a puddle of anguished embarrassment, he would have done so. He stared up at the stranger, who only gave him an even deeper scowl, as he turned to Yugi, with contrite guilt. Softly, he bit his lip,

and winced when it pulled at his cheek, that was already developing a bruise.

"It appears that I have made a grievious mistake. I apologize, sir, for striking you, and I hope you may forgive me for it. If you feel the need to strike me again, I will submit to it without argument."

Seto watched as Yami bowed low after the formal speech, and his jaw fell open in startled,disgruntled anger. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Seto's bellow was so loud that both Yami and Yugi jerked at the noise. Yami was still stooped over in his bow, one hand properly tucked beneith his stomach, the other curled behind his back, his waiting cheek presented for Seto's blow that never came.

"Yami, stand up, Seto's not going to punch you!' Yugi stammered to Yami, who rose to peer at Kaiba. "You don't intend to hit me, sir?"

Kaiba's eyes swung from Yami to Yugi, then back again, several times, completely flummoxed, and at a loss as to what he was supposed to do now. He chose to retreat to his usual distancing sarcasm.

"I already did, you idiot. Wasn't one time enough?"

"That is for you to decide, sir." Yami's regal voice floated up from his lowered position on the floor, and Seto just shook his head.

"What'd be the point? You still haven't recovered from the last punch." With those cool words, Seto straightened his coat, and spun on his heel to

march out of the store, only to be halted by Yugi's queery of "Are you sure you're alright, Seto?"

Seto grunted and shook his head, not bothering himself to answer. But Yugi raised an eyebrow to hear the warning and concern in the parting snide remark. "I'd watch myself if I were you, Yugi. Your cousin is an unstable idiot."

With that,Seto glided out of the store.

Yugi rounded on Yami, jabbing a finger in his face and proceeded to scream at him, "Yami, I don't know what just got into you now, or what you did in ancient Egypt, but you don't hit people here, do you understand?! You could have really hurt Kaiba!"

Yami backed away from Yugi, his arms flung up in distancing defense, his eyes bulging, and his confusion leaving him completely speechless, and overwhelmed, the darkness clouding his vision, once again, his body tremoring in all the sickening familiarity that he was breaking again.

Yugi stopped his rant when he noticed that Yami was paying him no mind, but his fingers kept gliding over the scars, distractedly, and his body was coiling into its protective crouch against the pain.

"I don't understand." Yami's soft uncertain words were barely whispered, as he turned to Yugi, his brow furrowed, and his eyes filling with fear.

"That was not Seth?" The realization that a man could look exactly as his torturerer, but not be was too outlandish and sickening to believe, as Yami

ran troubled fingers through his hair, and struggled to calm the frantic thoughts that were flitting chaotically as butterflies through his now pounding

skull.

"Seth? Who is Seth, Yami?" Yami's trembling voice was so restrained with the rage, that Yugi stepped back a few feet. "Seth is the cursed son of a dog who did this to me, Yugi." With a grimace and a sudden motion of hands to his throat, Yami wretched off the buckle that held the necklace over his quaking throat, and flung it down, pulling back the collar so Yugi could see them again. Yugi could only look away at the raw hate and rage that was sending the sudden fire through Yami's helpless veins again.

"Yami, I know that it was a horrible thing to go through...but Seto is inocent in that...don't you see?" Yami stood, lost, and shattered at the core.

His sanctuary of peace was trickling away from him like rebellious water, his mind still screaming in terror at seeing the hated face towering over him, thesensation of a high-pitched anguishing roar echoing through his thoughts.

And rising over it all, was Yugi's visible fear as he tried to navigate his way through Yami's clearly troubled mindset.

It was too much for Yami to possibly deal with, while he was so trapped between the terror of his past so balantly thrown at him now.

It was too much to try to explain to Yugi, as the small boy clutched at him, and attempted to force him to look at him.

The whole thing was just too much.

With a resolute shake of his head, Yami reached to free his wrist from Yugi's grasp, and he manuvered Yugi out of his way, gently.

"Yami?! Where are you going? You can't leave!" Yugi watched helplessly as Yami turned to him, with a kind smile.

"Do not worry about me, Yugi. I will be alright, and I will return when I have some answers. I bid you farewell for the moment."

The bells chimed on the door, and Yugi did not even have time to answer as Yami stepped of the shop, and disappeared into the dark street.


	24. The Beginning of Rage

It may have been minutes, or hours, that he had wondered aimlessly, putting his feet in motion in the futile attempt to make his thoughts stop, forcing his taxed muscles to carry him for the pointless miles, for no other reason than it was far more distracting and safer than attempting the hopeless task of figuring out what he was doing here, what went so wrong, and how in the name of Ra he was supposed to navigate this strange world he was now residing in.

He was panting with exhaustion long after the gameshop faded from view, but he kept up his relentless march to nowhere down the shimmering pavement, heedless of the people that he dodged, oblivous to all the strange restless hoards that dashed about as if their very lives were only dictated by the instinct to run, run, run.

Was he a monster because of what had been done to him, or was it a freely chosen fate?

And if it was chosen, then what would fate have to do with any of it? And, was he that much of a monster? His decision to belt Seth...Seto, he corrected himself, hastily, was hardly a decision he thought about. He simply saw him standing there, his hated hands near Yugi, and struck him down as the instinctive rage drove him on. It was completely an alien sensation to be so full of drunken rage that he would actually lash out like that. And the thrill of power he felt when he saw Seto reel back from the blow, and look at him with so much fleeting fear...it scared him. He could sense himself changing in ways that he could not even begin to fathom, and he knew that the Puzzle, for all its mutilation of his thoughts, was not wholly responsibile for what he was becoming. Was it the passage of time, or how much pain he had endured? Was it the fact that he was really corrupted, or was it that he had been wounded and broken for so long that he had nothing left but the pain to dictate his actions?

He shivered with remorse when he remembered Solomon's kind reassurance, and Yugi's saintly tolerance, how they saw him hysterical, and too torn to even function, yet they didn't wound him any deeper, and both had tried to help him. He remembered Solomon's reassurance that he was _family,_ and not just a tolerated burden, and he felt the loss anew, at how he had ruined his chances yet again with finding any footing in this place. No matter what sweet speech was made of forgiveness, Yami was sure that Solomon would be too fiercely protective of his grandson to allow a 5000 year old violent spirit to remain around him. And, finding no answers, and only impossible questions, Yami slid quietly to his knees, in exhaustion, and exhaled for a long, bitter moment.

With a scowl and a huff, Yami crossed his arms, and allowed himself to slip down onto a park bench. He finally noted where his wondering had taken his busy feet, and was quite mystified to see that the concrete had given way to more familiar vegetation, and even the few gently rolling hills of the large city park. Towering trees obscured the dizzying heights of the skyscrapers, a soft breeze through the emerald leaves drowned out the roar of the highways full of cars, and the flowing drip, and flash of silver drew his attention. The air here was quiet, peaceful, and inviting, as he heard the birdsong in the branches, and the small river that meandered so quietly through the small patch of woods.

It was dazzling to find this small area, so serene and sheltered away from all the chaos and the confusion of the life he had just left at the woodland's border. Yami allowed a smile as he saw the lulling current, the falling leaves making their dizzying arches over the path as the water carried them away. It was bittersweet, bringing back pleasant memories of his childhood, when he would sit on his father's knee on the high balcony and watch the Nile's languid water flowing out to eternity. Yami sighed, as he

lowered himself to the ground beside the bank, perching on a rock. He worked at the buckles on his boots, slipped them off, then dipped his feet into the water, relishing the

cool water soothing over his feet. It was the first moment of genuine peace he had had in a long, long time. It felt wonderful, and he did nothing for the next hour but

watch the water, and let his troubled thoughts flow free as the current that ran through his toes.

Yugi stared out the darkened window, his fingers drumming aimlessly at the desk, his anxious thoughts melting to fear, as he waited with fading hope for Yami's return.

How could he have been foolish as to let him wonder around Domino when he didn't understand any of the customs, or have any way of contacting Yugi if something

had happened. His thoughts grew even darker when he remembered the bright red of Kaiba's cheek, and that monsterous rage that had filled Yami's eyes in those

horrible moments before he regained his awareness of who he was. To actually have the nerve to even touch Seto Kaiba was extremely brave, in a perverse way.

Yugi was suprised that Kaiba had restrained himself, but wryly smiled at the thought that maybe Kaiba considered it to be beneith him, somehow. And Yami _had_

done what he did because of some horrible memory, to protect Yugi,..

To see the heart-breaking remorse as Yami stared at his bloodied fist, as if not understanding what he had just done, the breakdown in the living room where he and his grandfather had managed to piece the suffering Pharoah together enough to not completely collapse...

Yugi grew more and more worried as time slowly crawled by, and Yami did not appear. With a resolute sigh, Yugi rose, snatched up his blue jacket, zipped it up, and

started downstairs to go look for him.


	25. Flames

Okay, a bit of an author's note. Thank you so much for all your kind reviews, and I will be answering them this weekend, if I can. Thank you so much for your patience. I have made it through the holidays without too much of an issue, God graciously provided enough funds for me to buy presents for my family, and I am very glad that the headache is over with. Now, I am in the process of churning out chapters for Crown at a faster rate, but they tend to be a bit shorter. I have a few more chapters written for ATEOATs, with plenty of Yami and Seto conversationally related angst coming up that I will post in the coming weeks.

Forgive me if things seem to be a bit incoherent. I recently started a new job that doesn't really pay the bills, and I am now in the mad dash to find something that pays the rent and the Internet bill. Gotta love poverty!  
Anyway, on with the newest chapter...

Yugi stared out the darkened window, his fingers drumming aimlessly at the desk, his anxious thoughts melting to fear, as he waited with fading hope for Yami's return.  
How could he have been foolish as to let him wonder around Domino when he didn't understand any of the customs, or have any way of contacting Yugi if something had happened. His thoughts grew even darker when he remembered the bright red of Kaiba's cheek, and that monsterous rage that had filled Yami's eyes in those horrible moments before he regained his awareness of who he was. To actually have the nerve to even touch Seto Kaiba was extremely brave, in a perverse way.  
Yugi was suprised that Kaiba had restrained himself, but wryly smiled at the thought that maybe Kaiba considered it to be beneith him, somehow. And Yami had done what he did because of some horrible memory, to protect Yugi,..

To see the heart-breaking remorse as Yami stared at his bloodied fist, as if not understanding what he had just done, the breakdown in the living room where he and his grandfather had managed to piece the suffering Pharoah together enough to not completely collapse...

Yugi grew more and more worried as time slowly crawled by, and Yami did not appear. With a resolute sigh, Yugi rose, wrote out a hasty note to his grandfather, explaining his abscense, snatched up his blue jacket, zipped it up, and walked out into the darkness.

Yami stared up in astonishment to see the brilliant sunset, and the rapid onset of night. He had no idea that the idle hours he had spent collecting his thoughts had disappeared so quickly, and now that the darkness was falling around him, he realized with a gulp that he had succeeded in strolling away from the relative safety to the gameshop with no means of defending himself should he have the need. The trees were obviously not his enemy, and he felt that there was little threat in this small patch of woods, but outside of its borders, he was no longer sure. He was fairly certain that he would be able to find his way home easily, and even if not, it was not as if he could be slain in this world. Indeed, there was hardly anything that he feared, besides the Puzzle, and that was losing its control over him, anyway.

Yami flinched when he sensed the frantic thoughts thundering their way down the mindlink, and recoiled for a brief moment from the emotion that reverberated from it. It took him a few moments to realize that it was Yugi's concern that he felt like an echo through his core, and not an invasion.

Yami?! Where the heck are you? Are you hurt? Please, please, answer me!

Yami's answer was both apologetic, and hesitant, as he tensed, instinctively. It was amazing to be able to read Yugi's mind, but it was unnerving to have his own thoughts exposed in such a vulnerable way. Yugi, I apologize for worrying you, and I sincerely hope that I didn't cause any undue inconvience.

Yami. Yugi entoned with quiet resignation and patience I thought we had this resolved. You are not an inconvience, and you are not a burden. But it does really make me angry when you just suddenly decide to disappear, especially after punching somebody in the face. And Kaiba, no less!

Yami raised an eyebrow at the awe that was clearly leaking out of Yugi's voice, but said nothing of it. It was wrong of me to react in such a way, Yugi. And I will attempt to make it right.

Uh, Yami? You might want to wait on that. You are really lucky that Kaiba only punched you. I can't believe he just walked away like that! I mean, he's so...cold most of the time, and sarcastic...it makes no sense at all that he helped me, and spared you. Besides, I don't think Kaiba is going to do anything to you. I think he considered even when he hit you back.But exactly why did you hit him, Yami?

Yugi winced when he felt the despair bleeding through the link, and whimpered as his mind was filled with the helpless, aching loss of a severed existance, and the bewildered anguish that Yami was still scarred with from the brutal murder.

Yami felt Yugi's instinctive revulsion to the pain, and gasped to sense the tears that were now rolling down Yugi's cheeks, and he bit his lip as he reabsorbed the pain of those memories instinctively. He felt the astonishment, heard the mental gasp of shock as Yugi sent a questioning thank you over the mindlink.

Yami? What exactly did you do? Do you have the ability to absorb pain?!

Apparently, I do, Yugi. I apologize...you do not deserve to be subject to the horrors of the past, and I will do all that is necessary to ensure that you are never troubled by them again.

Umm...alright..but, Yami...where does that pain go when you "absorb" it? Does that mean that you take it on yourself, or what? I don't want you hurting over me!

Yami smiled at the unselfish thought. I most certainly am not hurting over you, Yugi. As to where it goes...I will explain that, some day. But rest asured you needn't fear causing me pain.

Yugi smiled at that. Are you on your way back, then? Will you be able to find me?

Yes, of course. Yami's confident reply came back with a grin. Fine then, Yami. I'll wait here for you.

Thus reassured, Yami strode forth, back to the world of concrete and indifference. The night melody of crickets chirping and the water's flowing gave way to the cold, mundane cars that kept their dizzying pace on the highway, the glitter of stars replaced by the gleam of glass and concrete.

It was Yugi's shrill cry of mind-breaking horror that flooded through Yami's soul like a vicious river that almost brought him to his knees, as Yami reeled from the shock.

Yugi?! What happened? Are you alright?! Answer me, please!! Yami's desperate plea shot back through the mindlink as soon as he could recover enough to send it.

His heart clenched when he heard the gasping, bleeding, dying breath, so fragile, so sickeningly close, as Yugi's words were heaved forth with far too much effort for such a simple answer.

Yami?! It hurts! I don't know where I am, it's so dark, and I am in so much pain...

Yami shivered in both anguished confusion and rising, helpless anger. Yugi?! What hurts? What happened?!

I don't know what happened, Yami. One moment I was talking to you, and looking at the Puzzle, the next moment, everything went black, and I found myself in this dark, cold place! Yami, please, please help me!

The anguish evaporated at the mention of the Puzzle, as the realization swept over Yami, washing away any fear, any mercy, or broken futility as Yami felt the familiar strength borne of fury flooding over every uncertain question, or doubt. Brutal, certain intention, deadly focus forged from the injustice of the Puzzle daring to harm an inocent person. It lent him the much needed determination to control the vicious surge of fire that was already glowing at his fingertips. Sheer, undiluted flame, so vengeful and consuming, and right, laced through his veins as he trembled and snarled with sheer rage.

Yugi. I am coming for you.

Yami's promise reverberated through the Puzzle's depths, and it shivered in revulsion when it felt Yugi's tears trickling onto its golden bricks, cold and foreign, and invading in their purity. It was nothing like the welcome warmth of Seth's blood the night that Yami had taken his revenge against the priest. It had drank Yami's tears over the slow crawl of time, built crystaline promises and shattered them with the ease of indifference, and long practice. It had felt the Pharoah's tormented rage rising in intensity, the heat scraping dangerously off the golden bricks, the spirit's presence beckoning like a beacon as Yami drew closer. Yugi was strangely silent, but Yami was becoming more and more incensed at the sensation of hesitant warning that radiated through the mindlink. Yugi felt Yami's approach, from the protective feeling that now cacooned him in warmth for a brief moment.

Yugi? Are you alright? Why are you so silent?

Even the thought that Yugi sent back was so laced with fear that Yami ground his teeth together in vicious, helpless fury.

It's...the Puzzle, Yami! It's listening to us...Yami, don't come after me, please! It will hurt you! Yami, please, please, stay away!

The words were abruptly choked off with a sudden squeal, and then, overwhelming, empty silence. Yami sensed nothing of Yugi, only the echo and the aftermath of refracting pain, and the Puzzle's perverse cheer and triumph.

Yugi's fist had beaten a frail, dying song against the golden bricks, as he scratched at them in the dark, pounding and screaming Yami's name, before he was abruptly engulfed in sheer agony. He felt the Puzzle moving over his limp muscles, hunger appraising his vulnerable thoughts, considering fangs bared in the anticipation of the feast that he would provide them. He screamed, and screamed, the tears streaming down his cheeks, as he prayed that this was a nightmare that he would soon awaken from.  
Yugi did not know that the Puzzle had temporarily blocked the link, only that Yami had grown completely silent, and there was no more answers.

Yami could sense the growing malice that lay festering in the unnaturally dark shadows that now clung to the Moto residence, as he bit his lip, and tilted his head in consideration for a brief moment. Mr. Moto was still at the Game Shop and would not be home for a few hours, so he was not likely to be in any danger at the moment.  
Yami felt as if he were entering the gates of hell itself as he crossed over the slab of concrete that made the front porch. Eyes narrowed against the dark, and glittering with contemplation, he resembled a panther readying a strike as he moved forward, turning to the coiled banister where his instincts suddenly flared in warning.

Yami did not waste time catering to the fear that was brewing, or the horrific visions of what the Puzzle was attempting to flood his mind with. Yugi being mutilated, his eyes staring vainly into oblivion, the velvet thoughts of the Puzzle promising to keep Yugi imprisoned for an eternity...

The Puzzle abruptly ceased its goading taunts when Yami only curled into himself against the onslaught, his flesh melding to stone, his shields crystalizing to diamond hard defenses, as his signiture flame arced high against the ceiling and roared back in answer. He was not sure what was causing this sudden surge in his ability, and watched in dismay as the strange halo of light that resembled a spell from Isis suddenly rise over his wondering eyes, and then dance across his scars. Yami almost winced, but instead of actually suffering pain, he felt the strange light gently, almost merrily caressing each of his old wounds, and felt the grinding ache as each of his wounds were reopened for a brief moment, and the anguish they caused absorbed into the glowing orb.  
Yami stared in wonderment as the ball of light rose like a star, then suddenly burst into a shower of sparks. He was haloed in the radience for a brief moment as it showered down on his raised arms. For one bittersweet moment, he felt Isis's steadying hand over his shoulder, the whispering echo of her voice.

Fear not, Yami. Remember your deliverance.

It was in Yugi's room where the two combatants finally met. The door was almost shattered from the sheer power that radiated from the Pharoah, and the Puzzle recoiled inspite of itself. It had egotistically believed that dear Yami would be harmless, if amusing. It had no idea that it would be encountering this trembling embodiment of rage and remorseless brutality as Yami glided forth, serpentine and eerily patient.

The darkness retreated from the dancing flames, as Yami casually extended an arm, and allowed the fire to heat his blood to the boiling point, the rage and the long years, and the thought of Yugi being subjected to the same unrelenting torture as he only spurring him on.

He strode to the center of the room to see the Puzzle glittering in answer, its mutilated, dead gold contrasting sickeningly with the living flames coming from Yami.

"You did a very foolish thing, Pharoah, in attempting to rescue the boy." The Puzzle's silken words were purred out in satisfaction, as Yami narrowed his eyes and shook his head in disgust.

"And you do a very foolish thing now in provoking me. Release him at once!" The hissing chuckle that filled the room made Yami's blood run cold, despite the heat from the flames.

"And why should you care, my dear king, what fate the boy suffers? Were you not the one who attempted to roast him alive? Imagine my delight upon discovering that your pretty little fireworks were nothing more than an illusion. Can you imagine how offensive it was to me?"

Yami flinched as he bit out the retort, each word piercing in its raw veracity, " You dare torment me about subjecting you to an illusion? After all that I have endured from you, any revenge on my part would be merciful compared to what you have done to me."

"Oh?" Came the scathing reply. "It is obvious, my king, that despite your clever attempts to adapt to this world, you will remain caged as long as I wish.You know this, Pharoah."

Yami's broken smirk was almost heart-breaking in its serene, hopeless surrender, as he shrugged, indifferently. "And you shall remain contained by me for as long as I exist. Have not our most joyous years together taught you that?"

And with Yami seeing no further reason to exchange snipes with his prison, he raised both hands, summoning his power from every void of anguish he suffered. Bright flames danced between the splayed fingers as he spread his arms wide in a fiery arc, and then with a hissed whispered, engulfed the Puzzle in flames.

It was Yugi's piercing shriek of pain that answered. 


	26. Broken

He had known fear, and tragedy in his short time on Earth. He had been lied to, abused, and viciously forgotten by his mother during those murky, haunted years that he almost never spoke of before he was dumped off at his grandfather's where he had remained content, and safe ever since. But what he had experienced in these last trickling hours had almost broken him. Every wound ever inflicted on him had been wrenched open, and the pain renewed, as fresh as the time it happened. He saw his memories played out before his eyes, each one fractured, and mutilated, as if he were peering at them through the jagged shards of a broken mirror.

No wonder Yami had the capability of becoming a monster. How could anybody endure this hell and not become one with it? He was uncertain of the passage of time, there was nothing here to mark its passing but the broken memories, and they were part of the past, anyway. Weren't they?  
He shivered, but not from cold, or even fear, but from the horrific sense of hungry expectation that was reverberating from the golden walls around him, growing in intensity. Yugi felt as if there was a brooding storm rising over the whole situation, and he cringed in worry for Yami's safety, but smirked in elation to hear his fearless, cocky banter, and then the almost festive challenge that followed.

The whole thing was too disorienting to truly understand. Yugi had been in his bedroom, examining the Puzzle in the hopes of understanding anything that might help Yami. The moment he took the cold trinket and turned it over in his hands, he felt himself falling down, floating, swathed in golden light, as he felt himself sucked into the Puzzle's core, body and soul. He had been uncerimoniously dumped onto the brick floor that gleamed beneith his splayed fingers with malicious satisfaction, and he recoiled to feel the warmth that resembled human skin. It made him sick, as he hastily scrambled to his feet, before he heard the roaring darkness, and felt himself engulfed in a terrifying abyss.  
There was absolutely nothing to describe it because there was nothing there to signify the difference between the darkness and the void around him.  
He was falling, but no matter how much he twisted his limbs, or which direction he drifted, his splayed, seeking hands found nothing to anchor himself to.

So when he heard Yami's voice, frantic with worry, but so welcome, he nearly cried, and promptly swooned. The last he heard was the silken laughter of the Puzzle as he closed his eyes.

Yami shuddered in the echoing that thundered through his quaking heart, as he sought some precious reassurance that Yugi was even alive. There was nothing coming back through the mindlink but empty silence. Anguish and rage mingled in his core, brewing into toxic, helpless fury, as he bared his teeth, narrowed his eyes, and without any conscious thought, consumed the Puzzle with his fire until it should have melted into a sparkling puddle. What he never expected was the cruel retribution from the Puzzle. It slank away from the flames in lurching retreat, its defenses now crippled, and soon to be rendered useless.

It was the most brutal means of self-protection and vengence possible. With glee, the Puzzle vomited forth Yugi's crumpled form, in a shower of golden sparks, neatly deposited in the middle of the raging firestorm around him. There was no sound but the whispered hush of quiet, submissive flesh being turned to ash, as Yugi lay so still in the flames that were now dancing up the sleeves of his jacket. Yami screamed his name, clawed at hsi arm, lurched forward, and heaved the limp body high out of reach, as he hissed the command under his breath, and disolved the flames to shadows. Carefully, he lay Yugi down behind him, as he positioned himself as a shield between Yugi and the menacing pyramid that was now proudly flaunting its gold. Yami had no time to wonder what damage Yugi had already suffered.

"Damn you." He spat the words in a whispered snarl, as he drew himself up, his eyes storming over with helpless rage that he could not unleash, his fingers still glowing with the aftermath of a power he could not use, for fear of harm falling on Yugi.

Yami grunted in dismissal, but realized that he was the only thing between Yugi and the Puzzle's wrath. He was defenseless.

The Puzzle sat back, patiently waiting, as Yami risked a troubled glance behind him to assess the damage done to Yugi. Aside from singed hair, he looked as if he were enjoying a peaceful nap. But it almost broke Yami to even consider the possibility that Yugi might have died... there was still no answer through the mind link, and he could not sense any trace of his essence, anywhere.

Yami twisted back to face the Puzzle, as it glided back and forth, patiently, with the ease of a sated tiger, teasingly caressing Yami's defenses, and enjoying the flinch of disgust and the recoil of pain and fear as the caresses grew claws that cut, and bruised.

But the worst was yet to come.

Yami swallowed hard, prayed for strength, and hissed out the words.

" Would you consider my surrender a worthy trade for him?"

The Puzzle ceased its torment, in contemplation, as it ran scathing thoughts over Yami's tremoring frame, gave Yugi an appraising glance, and drank in the selfless concern that Yami had for him. To have this surrender so suddenly offered was a most unexpected boon, but it was not enough to satisfy.

"No, my king." The ominous answer was purred out as the Puzzle flared with joyless mirth at the sight of Yami. He was pale, and trembling, his concern for Yugi obvious and balant as he kept turning his agonized eyes over his shoulder, and keeping himself positioned between them.

Yami heard an astonished gasp of quiet suprise, heard his name breathed almost sluggishly through the mindlink, as Yugi stumbled to his knees.

"Yami? What is going on?! Are you alright?" Yami did not answer, but shook his head. Hope soared. Yugi seemed to be confused, but undamaged, otherwise. Maybe there was a way out of this after all...

Yami had no time to complete the thought when he saw the deadly intent of the Puzzle glowing bright and then arching into a searing volley of rabid fire that was aimed towards Yugi.

With a startled cry, Yami bolted between them, and took the brunt of the whole thing.

Yugi screamed, as he saw Yami lit with dazzling fire for a brief momemt, before he absorbed it. The flames faded, revealing Yami's body twisted in the aftermath of the onslaught.

Yami's eyes were screwed shut, impossibly tight, one hand raised in self defense, the other curled up helplessly beneith his lowered head. Yugi gaped to see the shuddering tremble that seemed to wrack the Pharoah's taunt, tensed frame to its core, and the quivering lips, and his pale, sweating features twisted in unbearable, blind pain.

To be so hideously exposed, and vulnerable was obviously distressing the Pharoah beyond his endurance. 

It was agonizing paralysis, and vicious suspention over a yawning precipice. It was being violated until the Puzzle had teasingly reached Yami's breaking point, and then ruthlessly continuing until he shattered. It was feeling his mind break and his soul fragment and his body tortured.

Yami's whole body tensed against the rising pain, and Yugi watched with alarm as the Pharoah crumpled.

Yugi felt Yami's groping hand clench his sleeve, the terror lending strength to his curled fingers, as he desperately sought out an anchor to tether him firmly to the world around him, and not the dark malestrom that he sensed from the Puzzle. Indeed, it was mockingly lapping against his defenses, so smug, and so certain. Yami could feel the last of his strength and shields fraying dangerously.

Yugi watched as Yami's knuckles glowed white from the strain of keeping himself centered, the cost of keeping back the shadows clearly making itself known by the new scars winking scarlet at his throat, and the shaking that permiated from Yami's torpid body. "Yami?" Yugi stared in disbelief to see the once proud king slowly, achingly bow to the unbearable burden with an unwilling groan.

"Geeze, Yami, let me take some of that for you, please! I can't stand to see you like this!" Yugi cried only to see Yami clench his teeth even tighter, and resolutely shake his head in negation.

"No...Yugi. This is my burden, and my pain to bear. Please, just leave me be. I will be alright." He slowly ground out, shifting with a grimace, eyes sliding shut as he felt himself yielding, no matter how much his spirit resisted. It gave him a bit of grim satisfaction. At least the Puzzle was being forced to drag him down in this dark pit of suffering, piece by relinquished piece rather than the usual weeping surrender. He could feel the Puzzle's strength fraying from his resistance, and it gave him a bit of hope that he might be able to salvage something, or at least pay the Puzzle back wound per wound. 

He missed the calculating cynism that brewed across Yugi's heart, and did not feel the bitter, twisting doubt that made itself known in Yugi's disbelieving scowl. It was a desperate attempt from the Puzzle to break him, and a clever one: keeping the young Pharoah distracted by the agony, while the Puzzle used the one person he trusted to penetrate his barriers. But, it was the harsh demand for an answer in Yugi's bitter tone that pierced his heart in his partner's vicious tirade.

"Tell me why I need to back away, Yami! Do you not trust me enough to let me help you, after all we've been through? Do you still think I'm too weak and unequal to do anything for you? Or, is the real reason behind all your dramatics just the fact that you can't stand the thought of being anything less than the conquering hero, once again?"

Yami could only stare up at him, in wounded, helpless disbelief. "Because you cannot help me, Yugi!" Yami's voice dropped into another groan, as his eyes fluttered shut, ending his retort for good.

Yugi strode over to him, his face twisted into a cynical, dismissing scowl. "I don't believe you, Yami." The quiet words brought tears to Yami's eyes, as he looked up at Yugi, silently imploring.

If anything, it only seemed to infurriate Yugi beyond his limits. And, under the Puzzle's gliding thoughts, Yugi only gave him a sneer in answer, and squinted in concentration as he poured it all out in one vicious blast across the mind link.

The attack was unexpected, which made it even more damaging. Yami reeled back as if Yugi had cut him off at the knees staggering, almost falling, his control decaying. Yami just cringed, and grunted, outwardly, but inwardly, he was stricken, and so very afraid. Yugi could shatter him, literally.

Yugi stared at Yami,mutely, and then his face grew hard. "I am sick of your manipulation, and lies, Yami! You keep blathering about how we're equals, and yet you keep lying to me about exactly what is hurting you so much. If you are really in so much pain, let me help you!"

Yami raised his hollow, disbelieving eyes at Yugi's cruel, misplaced doubt, the bewildered anguish bleeding up in savage preparation.

"You don't...understand...Yugi." He could barely force out the choked whisper. "If you tried to force my defenses now, it would break me. I beg you, don't do this! " His attempt to make Yugi see reason ended with Yugi's hand flung up in abrupt dismissal.

"If you have any faith, or belief in me left, Yugi...if you have any regard for me, please,...don't force me to bear anymore..." It was a soft,  
broken plea, as Yami slowly propped himself up on hands and knees that were quivering far too much for any promise of rising.

Yugi only stared at him, his eyes darkening, and Yami stiffened when he felt the rage curtling across Yugi's increasingly brooding, malicious storming rage. Yami found himself swallowed completely up in one hungry,demanding agony that leeched the bastian of control that he had managed to hold onto. The fraying essence that fragmented against his core reverberated, and he felt each shard of the memories sharpened and ready to bare down on his vulnerable defenses. He shuddered when he felt the last of his nerves shatter in revulsion from the all consuming pain he could no longer fight, or conceal.

Yugi watched with dawning terror and awareness as Yami's whole body convulsed in instinctive anguish, and Yugi heard Yami's next breath exhaled between a groan of denial and a wailing cry.

It was the torture of the overflow that finally brought the poor king to collapse. Until that point, Yami had borne the odd but sickening sensation of balancing both the Puzzle's revenge on one side of his shields, and protecting Yugi with the other. With the horrible thoughts that Yugi kept bombarding up the mind link, Yami was too crippled to restrain anything else. And it was the breaking of it all that nearly killed him.

It felt like what Yami believed a lightening bolt would feel like, quickening its burning through its core, lashing its way through his trembling control and unleashing itself when he could do nothing more. Yami was too stunned to do anything else, and there was no other place for the pain to be vanquished to. Like a perverse volley,  
it blazed its way through Yami's resistance, and flew back through the mind link to Yugi.

Yugi felt the whiplash of agony burn its way through his flesh, and he fell to his rear with a startled cry.

"Yami! Ow! Why did you do that to me?!" came Yugi's indignant squawk of seething pain. As quickly as the agony had ate its way through him, it was gone.

"I can't stop it!" Yami ground out, as he winced in growing agony. From the wrenching whimper, and the stiffening of Yami's spine, Yugi knew that the Pharoah had reabsorbed the pain to prevent Yugi from having to endure any more of it. Yami's head was bowed, his arms clasped and locked over his wrists under his chin, as he slithered down the wall, the sheen of sweat glittering from his forehead, and the brilliant tears slowly burned down his sallow cheeks.

It was the strange, soft hitch of his breaths and the shaking in his bowed shoulders that told Yugi Yami was choking back the scream.

"Yami? Why are you doing this? I can handle-" Yugi's rant was interrupted by Yami's bitter groan, as he crumbled..

"Because it hurts!"

Yami squealed the words, piercingly helpless, laced with sobs as he clawed uselessly at his temples in an attempt to deflect some of the suffering. It was futile. He had lost all control, then, as he collapsed into shuddering cries that left his words mangled with the tears, and only added to his pain in the effort to breathe...

"It hurts, Yugi! Can you not see that?!" The words were hurled at Yugi's feet, as Yami only bowed his head even deeper into himself, bawling as if he had lost everything.

Yugi inhaled a sharp breath, instantly dropped his next attack as he watched Yami broken, weeping and tortured, in sickening disbelief.  
Had he done this?!

"Yugi, Stop, please, please, stop! I can't bear any more!" 


	27. The Shattered

Yugi immediately dropped his attempt to force his way through the mind link, and ran over to the fallen king's side, as Yami inhaled deeply in relief as the grinding pressure slackened into a dull, deep ache.

Yami's tears flowed in the scar that now marred his cheek, as he buried his face in his hands.

Yugi stood still, as if transfixed, the numbing shock still evident from his silence and agog eyes, before he moved forward.

Hesitantly, Yugi draped an arm over Yami's shoulder, in awkward soothing, as Yami only coiled tighter against his knees.

A shoulder that was covered with his tears, and the soft, comforting murmurs that Yugi uttered in his awkard attempt to ease Yami's undeniable anguish.

"Yami..." The Pharoah's eyes slowly opened, and glowed up at Yugi from the crook of his elbow.

Yugi's voice was cracked and hollow, as he knelt down beside Yami, the horrified regret melding in with his guilt, as he made his stumbling attempt at an apology.

"I am so sorry, Yami. I didn't mean to hurt you. I am sorry I didn't believe you!" With a grunt, Yami shoved him away, weakly, still too engulfed with the dizzying, clawing aftermath of the brutality to tolerate any sort of touch. His entire frame quivered in rememberance of past experience.

He felt Yugi's timid fingers uncertainly edge its way around his bent shoulders, but stopped when Yami seized his wrist in a sweating, white-knuckled fist, and gave him a pleading shake of his head.

"Yami?" Yami could only writhe hopelessly, the grip on Yugi's wrist going slack as his body was violated again by another ripple of sensation. Yami

just whimpered, and writhed, his head lulling, and his arms bracing against his body in ever tightening reflex.

Thought, heavy, dark, and strangely light as obsidian cloud came trickling over the link at a slow pace. Yugi blanched. It was nothing like the familiar light, quick thoughts that Yami normally sent over through the link.

"Leave me." The voice was sluggish, cruel, and growled as Yami groaned again under the unbearable strain even from something so mundane.

Yugi stared down at Yami, the tears rising to his eyes, as he stooped to cradle Yami, to offer reassurance and comfort.

"No! Don-" The familiar anguish of fire laced up Yami's flesh, the choking burn searing his throat, the helpless paralysis as his pleas crumbled uselessly, brought down by the cage of Yugi's arms. He felt himself surrounded-trapped, and terrorized, the last of his breath bleeding out in strangled heaving,being leeched from his trembling, shattered flesh. Yami found himself again, at

the mercy of one he called 'friend', while he could only wait for the torture to stop, the amusement brought forth from his agony to leave the

cruel thirst for it appeased.

Yami did the only thing he could to save himself. With a sigh of resignation, he yielded the body to the surrender of the shadows, only begging them to take the sensations of pain as far away as they could. It was a devil's bargain, bought with his own tears, and the promise of uncompromising submission to their wishes later. He saw from their bared teeth and tongues hungrily lapping at their drawn snarls, he would pay--

dearly. But, it couldn't be any more painful that this.

It was the sensation of Yugi's hands pawing at his own that brought him back to awareness. The physical torture and mental violation had stopped, leaving him with a bone-deep ache and emptiness that seemed to echo from within his own broken center, as he slowly exhaled.

Yugi was rocked back on his haunches, his face tense and teary as he continued the useless entreaties for Yami to wake up. Yugi had felt the rapidly decaying state of Yami's sanity, and the panicked escape, clawing out of the abyss, only to feel Yami's hope being swallowed by the hungry

beasts that were merrily feasting on his misery now.

It was the last, relatively minor violation that finally broke him.

"Do with me what you will." Yami's voice was hallow, resigned, and dead, and so resolute.

"What?" Yami just shuddered, willing his heart to stop, his breath to cease, anything to save him from this...

"Yami, what do you mean?"

Yami opened his eyes at this, the wry amusement perversely sparkling in them before it yielded to his broken will and complete acceptance of his fate--what he believed to be nothing but torture until he finally had the strength to end it all.

"You are going to, anyway. It's my fate, isn't it? To always be the sacrifice. And what does a sacrifice do, Yugi? It does nothing but endure until

its use is exhausted, and then it is cast away."

He couldn't help the bitter snarl, or the chilled wet of a tear as it slid down one drawn cheek, useless and ignored as the rest he had wept.

Yugi stood over him, hands reaching forward, but abruptly yanked back as if he had been slapped. Even though Yugi was demunitive, he now towered over the broken wreck at his knees who was making a rather futile effort to fade into the unyielding concrete wall behind him.

Hesitantly, Yugi lowered himself again in an awkward squat until he was eye-level with Yami. Yami's head jerked up from his concealing arms, at the movement, and he made a pathetic attempt to shy away. Yami didn't even have the strength to drag his aching body away from Yugi's outstretched hands for more than a few feet. Yugi felt his gut clench in slimed revulsion to see the Pharoah's bleeding, crawling lurch away on hands and knees, as he finally settled himself. With hands that were shaking dangerously, Yami arranged the long shirt to hide his scars, and then set his trembling, bowed back against the wall, the old regal mask slid neatly into place, and he forced his voice out with its magificant cadence.

"I am defenseless, and at your mercy, Yugi. If you attempt to force my defenses down now, it will kill me. But, I will not fight you any more, and I will not submit to any more torture. I do not understand why you have called me your friend, and seemed so intent on wounding me so brutally, but that is of little consequence now. Do with me what you will, but end this...please."

Yami took a deep breath, bowed his head, closed his eyes, and then looked at Yugi, his eyes full of the memories of savage torment.

"I was a slave and a plaything to the Puzzle for five thousand years, Yugi. My memories were reduced to little more than manipulated fragments of the people that I loved, and my soul was shattered and sealed away for a reason that not even I could ever understand. Mayhaps I did something evil to deserve this existance, or maybe not, and if your torture of me was part of that retribution, I would bear it as my due punishment. I could even understand your inflicting pain out of idle curiosity to see my reaction..."

Yami shuddered, as the bitter realization tore its exposing shards through the shaky remains of his reason. Yugi noted with alarm Yami's rapidly narrowing eyes, and the alien hardness that turned his agonized features into gritted teeth of betrayal, and eyes glittering with suspcion.

"But you are more cruel than any torture that the Puzzle has ever devised. I always knew that the Puzzle delighted in breaking me. I have come to expect its evil. But you-" Yami's lips curled, and Yugi gulped to see his eyes darken and close to bloody slits, and then widen with fire dancing across his irises. "You knew! I was sobbing in pain, and I begged you to stop hurting me, but you continued your attack until I was too broken to do anything!

Do you see me as only your plaything to torture at your leisure as well? Is that all that I am to you?"

Yami's voice climbed higher with his emotions, and he studied Yugi with obvious waiting. Yugi could only stare down at him, his imploring hands

flung open wide. Yami saw the pleading torment and a pain that ran even deeper than his own. Yugi bit his lip, hesitated, then opened his mouth to speak, softy, angrily.

"Yami, I am so sorry! I didn't know that you were hurt so much. I never would deliberately hurt you. How was I to know that this was going to happen? You never told me anything about pain traveling through the mindlink! I didn't know the Puzzle could hurt you like this! Why didn't you tell me any of this?" Yugi raised a perturbed eyebrow in absolute frustration, and helpless anger.

Yami only cringed, as he folded his knees to his stomache in instinctive protection as his jaw quivered, and he swallowed hard.

"Yami? What-" He felt Yugi's hands tugging at his sleeve, and opened his eyes to see Yugi now standing over him, deeply troubled, and confused,

as he saw Yami start to tremble in horrible anticipation of his old stomache element.

Why now? Yami thought helplessly, as the warning shudder in his gut and the burning already rising from his throat forced him into prompt action.

"Yugi..." Yami squeaked his name, as he doubled over with a moan,and desperately tried to remove himself from Yugi's insistant clutching.

" Yugi, let me go! Please, let me go!" Yami's voice climbed higher in panic as he was swept over with the overwhelming nausea, as he twisted

away to spare his and Yugi the disgusting mixture he would shortly spew.

"Yami! What is wrong with you?! You can't just-"

Yugi watched in shock as Yami swallowed with considerable effort, his mouth grimacing at the horrific bile that was searing its way upward. From the sickening quivering that now gripped his stomach,to the bitter taste of the bile that was rapidly announcing its presence, Yami knew that he was going to empty his stomache in a matter of seconds.

Yugi looked stricken when Yami shoved him away with the flat of his hand, the other hand clapped over his mouth as he lurched around.

Yugi understood his reaction when he saw poor Yami bow his head, brace himself and retch. Yami felt the violent heaves in their earthquakes across his stomache, winced from the searing of his throat, and sat back on his haunches, waiting for the horrible sensation to leave. Yami's throat felt slimed and filthy, and Yami could not fathom how this indignity could still embarrass him so much. He

wiped away the aftermath with his sleeve, and shuddered in absolute humiliation.

He did not see Yugi approach from behind, and he was too distracted by his own misery to care.

He cringed at the contact of Yugi's hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to see the violet eyes full of tears. Yugi was on his knees, asking silently for absolution, as he slowly engulfed the Pharoah in an embrace. Yami surrendered to the touch, too exhausted to do anything else.

"I am so sorry, Yami. I didn't know that I was hurting you. Honest!"

Yugi felt, rather than saw Yami's head slowly shake in negation, and saw Yami push himself away with a grunt. The naked hurt that glittered in Yami's eyes, and his physically seperating himself made Yugi stiffen, as fresh tears slowly trickled down Yami's cheeks.

"Twice it happened, Yugi. You attacked me twice. My reaction to the first one should have been a slight indication that it was painful. But that didn't stop you! I was already defenseless."

His eyes narrowed, and his voice grew soft, and harsh.

"That second attack on me hurt you, as well, did it not? Tell me, Yugi. Do you think that was my twisted attempt at retaliation?"

Yugi flinched, uncertainly, not knowing how to answer. "Yes. It hurt me a lot, but it didn't last long. But, Yami, you were defending yourself! I deserved that!"

Yami shook his head slowly with a bitter, broken chuckle. The misplaced blame and guilt that Yugi was unwittingly trying to burden him with was almost amusing, if it didn't break his heart...

"You misunderstand me, Yugi. I didn't attack you."

Yugi raised an eyebrow, the confusion marring his wide, inocent face into a strange grimace that mirrored Yami's worn brutality. Yami shuddered at the resemblance.

"The pain you experienced was the result of your attack on me. I was already drained from restraining the Puzzle, and I didn't have the energy to maintain both my shields, and protect you. When you attacked me the second time, my shields were functionally useless, but so was my ability to absorb any more energy. What you felt was the overflow of your own attack that deflected from me, since I couldn't do anything else but divert it, even if it was only for a moment. I am sorry that you experienced that, but at least now you know what you have done to me, and what you are capable of doing to me in the future."

Yami raised his regal head, flung out shaking arms to pull his long shirt down and preserve some vestige of his crumbling pride, as a distraction to how absolutely blind, and stupid and unwittingly callous his supposedly kind partner was. The ghosts of old wounds rose, bore their teeth down into his gut, and heart. Ripping open the fragile scars and forcing him to remember the bleeding anew. Beneith the buckle of the collar around his neck, he could feel the jagged wound of Seth's reopening. His hands and wrists burned with the fresh pain of gnawing ropes and bindings when he fought that futile, strangling battle at the hands of those he once trusted. Bound with honor like a willing sacrifice, drugged into tortured submission by chalice, by sleeping spells, by brute force. Dead before he even had the chance to live his life, only to serve his time as a prisoner to a golden Puzzle.

The injustice of it had hardened him, since he had nothing but mindless years to brood on it, and the Puzzle to reinforce his beliefs that he was nothing to the people around him but a thing to provoke for their own selfishness, or to torture for their amusement, or to break him, or just because... it mattered little to him, now. He felt Yugi's apologetic hands moving over his bent shoulders, gliding gently as buttefly wings, in an effort, Yami assumed, to keep him from that troubled, anguished brooding that Yami was quite inept at slipping into now. Even now, Yami fought the instinct to summon an energy blast and fling that small body across the room until it was shattered. Even now, he fought the urge to recoil, and shudder and wail loudly enough for God to end this fate of forced victimization. He would have preferred a warrior's death...quick, decisive, and mercifully over with. It couldn't be any worse than being shackled to a piece of gold and at the mercy of a child who seemed to feel free to abuse him at will. At least then he would not have to choke down these pathetic tears, tears that so openly showed his fraility.


	28. No Mercy To the Innocent

It was the wheezing hiss, and the jarring thrust of Yami's chest that inspired the Puzzle to unleash another "gift."

Yami involuntarily yelped at the sharp, shooting pain,as he felt his ribbone collapse and curl against his chest. It was the remnant memory of Seth's vicious blow to his ribs in that long ago attempt to beat him into submission,but the Puzzle knew that wound triggered more helpless fear in Yami than any other sort of injury.

"Not again." Yami cringed and curled his arms around his wounded rib, hunching over himself protectively, as he groaned in renewed pain.

Yugi's head shot up in alarm when he saw Yami attempting to cradle his side with his arms.

"Yami? Are you hurt? What's wrong?"

Yami only whimpered, closed his eyes and shook his head as he wilted.

He heard Yugi's sharp intake of breath, a small noise of alarm and concern. Yami felt small hands shoving him down, forcing him onto his back, as he

felt the broken bone screaming, while he lay, too stunned by the shock and the pain to move. The dark familiar wave of helplessness was washing over him again,

as he felt Yugi's hand tugging at his shirt and forcing it upward. His vision wavered, failed as Yugi's hands brushed aside his arms to see what was wrong.

"Yami? What happened to your chest? Are you alright?" Yami shivered when he felt the protective cloth stripped away from his wounds, leaving his chest exposed, and leaving him feeling even more vulnerable. Yami cringed as the cool air wafted over his bare flesh, and he felt the heat climb to his cheeks once again. It was humiliating to see Yugi's eyes widen with shock as they swept over the scars, the mutilated

dip in his rib, the suprised exhalation of breath. Yami detested having his shirt taken away. With trembling fingers, Yami attempted to pull the corner of his shirt back down to conceal his chest and preserve a precious bit of dignity.

Yugi gave him an annoyed huff, as his insistant fingers only tightened their grip. Yami only shook his head, and braced an arm over the broken rib instinctively, as he tried to push away the unwanted physical contact with the other.

"Yami, if you're hurt, I want to help you! Now get over yourself and let me see!" Yugi's thoughtless retort hurt,but not as much as the complete dismissal of Yami's embarrassment and pain. It was irritating to Yugi to see the Pharoah so concerned about his modesty that he was willing to risk injury to preserve it.

"Yami.."Yugi began in a patient, condensending, and reasoning tone. "I promise, I will not hurt you. But I need to see what's wrong before I can help you and you are obviously in pain. Now are you going to be an adult about this, or do I need to yank that shirt off myself? Don't you trust me?"

Yugi felt the shivering misery that seemed to emerge from Yami's core, as he only stared up at him with pleading eyes, and his arms only curling around his wound tighter.

Somewhere in the foot of distance between the two, the Puzzle chuckled at seeing Yami so tortured by Yugi, however unwittingly.

"Yami? Please, let me help you. I'm not going to hurt you, you know that, right? Let me see."

Yami surrendered, unwillingly releasing his arms from their vise-like grip from his side, and allowed Yugi to

resume unbuttoning the shirt, which he did with extreme gentleness, all the while uttering soothing nonsense to Yami about his bravery, and how much his trust meant to him.

Yami bit his lip to keep from sobbing, as he lay back in helpless waiting, in the futile attempt not to shiver. Yugi gave him a reassuring smile, as he carefully lay an exploritory hand across Yami's trembling side.

Yami flinched from the expected touch, the pain radiating from the bone, as his fingers dug uselessly into his sleeves.

Yami felt the probing hand venturing over his stomach, the flat of Yugi's palm hesitantly across the angry, colorful bruise that went from sternum to back,but even that light touch led to overwhelming pain. He recoiled with a groan, the tears unbidden leaking down his pinched cheeks, slowly trickling down his clenched jaw. "Yugi..my rib..." he mouthed in anguish, not able to force his voice to rise an octive above his shattered breathing. But he could only gasp as a drowning man. Yugi never did hear him, as Yami choked and writhed under Yugi's searching hand that kept hurting so much.

He opened his eyes to see Yugi completely engrossed at the horrible sight of bruised, dented ribcage. Yami's fist clenched in pain, as he

attempted, once again, to draw Yugi's attention with a tug on his sleeve. Yugi gave him a warm smile, a condensending pat on the head. "I know it hurts, Yami, but we'll get you to

a hospital, alright? " Yami shook his head, and moaned. The only thing that would be worse than Yugi's oblivious probing to his wounds would be

to actually move with them.

Yami groaned out a desperate negation, too stricken by the searing pain that radiated from his side to reply. Indeed, the effort it took to draw

breath from his broken rib was almost too much for him to keep breathing.He never knew that a person could hurt so much and live.

It was the choking gurgling sob that scared Yugi,as Yami tensed in tears and tried to inhale enough air to avoid losing consciousness.

In an effort to help Yami breath easier, Yugi heaved him upright.

It was the animalistic scream that tore from Yami's throat that almost made Yugi drop him. Yugi felt Yami's muscles stiffening in alarm, and he convulsed in writhing, instinctive aversion to the breaking sensation that splintered over his rib, and somehow engulfed the rest of his tremoring frame. Yami's jaw flung itself open to wail, his lips drawn back like a trapped beast in its death throes. But it was the terrifying sensation that Yugi felt from Yami's own flesh that scared him the most. Yami's entire frame tensed into a confused coil of warring oblivion, and the fight not to lose consciousness, tighter and tighter with each new onslaught. But in the next instant, Yami's body went slack as water, as Yami fainted. Yugi saw Yami's head lull, the half open eyes glossy from tears, and staring eerily blank at some spot in the ceiling.

"Yami?" Yugi ventured softly, as his eyes grew even wider. "Let me help you. Yami? Please, please answer me!"

Let me help you...for your own good...the echoes of distant voices reverberated through Yami's throbbing skull, as he heard the false promises of

friends through the long forgotten past, now merging with pyschotic clarity in the present. Yami felt his heart clench, snap, waver and die, then grow so torpidly cold as he felt hands, and shackles and power stronger than his own forcing him onto his back, raising his chin for the dagger.

Seth's cackle and Isis's apology, and his father's beatings...the chorus of all those who stood by watching while he bled to death on that stone slab.

He became more aware as he grew colder...what was left of his terrified soul crawling downward into the stony bastians of injured pride, and resolve and bitter, scathing intent to never allow himself to be reduced to the mercy of anybody else.

Yugi was obliviously, but valiently trying to bring some sort of comfort to Yami, as he held his slack hand in one, and cradled the lax form against his shoulder. He could see Yami's eyes spinning beneith the clenched lids, feel his breath quicken and his heart thundering, but there was no response. Yugi glanced around helplessly. He was alone and uncertain, and definitely didn't know enough about first aid to do more than bind the rib, and he wasn't sure that was right, either. If just lifting the injured king provoked this reaction, Yugi was extremely hesitant to try moving him again.

"Yami? Please answer me! You're scaring me!" Carefully, Yugi lay him down, prone, to see if there were any other injuries he could do something about. In desperation, he attempted the mind link, and flinched at the cold distance. There was nothing to indicate that Yami was even there. Helpless tears of futility sprang from Yugi's eyes as he clasped the Pharoah's slender hand between his two and kneeded it, with growing worry.

Yami felt the darkness, familiar and sweet, wafting around him in welcome, as he drove himself deeper away from the cloying pain, and the hands that were so callously probing his wounds. The depths of the Puzzle offered solace, where he could heal, and cry and mull over Yugi's indifference.

Yami was too overwhelmed by the dizzying sensations of both defending himself, leeching the pain from Yugi and then the unbearable strain of

holding back the clawing, hungry rage that Yugi obliviously kept provoking. The physical pain had distracted him from the effort, to the point that his only choices available were yielding the body to the Puzzle in the hope that it would heal it, or lashing out at Yugi with all of his torture. Yami looked down at his hands, pictured Yugi writhing and screaming beneith them as they radiated fire and heat enough to torch that frail, bowed creature into a remnant of ashes. Yami might have recoiled in horror at even contemplating such a thing, but here, in the darkness, where he felt his body still being manhandled, and weakened by the effort to hold back his own fire...it seemed correct. Just and right. Why should he, a Pharoah of Egypt, be bound a slave to serve and cringe and cry at each wound? Why should he be forced to endure so much torment and torture

because he simply refused to retaliate? Yami's lips coiled into a considering, dark smile as he raised his hands in contemplation the bright fire growing stronger in his flesh, and his eyes. With his head bowed in willing surrender, he called forth the shadows, and felt the shackles of pain

leave the pathetic wreck of his body falling away.

Yugi was so startled, he nearly dropped the Pharoah as Yami suddenly jerked back with a loud gasp, and lay quivering in the cradle of Yugi's arms.

"Yami! You're awake!" Yami winced at the high-pitched squeal, and Yugi watched as his eyes slowly opened.

Yugi let out a suprised yelp as he found himself violently belted across the mouth and sprawled out on the floor. He saw a shadow fall over him, the sharp intake of breath through clenched teeth, the deliberate footsteps and the iron grip of a knotted fist on his collar as he was hauled to his feet, and then found himself dangling a few inches in the air. Yugi was even more distressed to see Yami gazing down at him with a cocked head, and a calculating curve on his lips. It was Yami's eyes that scared him the most. They were a mutilated shade of Yugi's own violet eyes, almost consumed with ebony churning, and glittering with a madness and a violent mirth. There was no warm recognition. Even Yami's posture had changed. Where he was bowed, and injured before, he was now standing at full height, the rigid muscles taut with new strength as Yugi felt the fingers closing in on his collar. They stood like that, transfixed by each other, for long, merciful moments, until Yugi quivered in Yami's grip.

He felt an explosion of pain, as Yami rammed him into the wall, splayed his fingers, and pinned Yugi between two fists firmly anchored at his shoulders. Yami stood over him, heaving, that sneer deepening in satisfaction, as he gave a scathing glance over Yugi's body.

"How does it feel, Yugi, to be at the mercy of somebody else? To continue inflicting the pain when they are pleading with you to stop?"

Yugi cringed against the harsh grip, as he craned his neck to peer into Yami's eyes.

He could only manage a squeak as he felt the once kind hands of Yami lace with evil intent into his heaving throat. Fingers arched, nails bared back, clawing into his flesh, til he bled, his last breath a strangled entreaty for Yami to stop.

Yami cocked his head to the side, and offered a broken, sickening smirk. "How did it come to this, Yugi?"

His voice was a bitter whisper, wind across Yugi's ear, a dying breath that felt so cold against his quaking cheek.

"At what point did I change from the role of your slave and toy to the avenger and the punisher? At what point did you revert from being my master to this sniveling child whose neck I could snap without remorse?" Yugi cringed as Yami's fist tightened deeper into his neck in emphasis.

"Yami!" Came the pathetic, pained plea, as Yugi twisted in futile effort for more air. "I don't know what's come over you, Yami, but please, please stop! You're not a monster! You don't hurt people because you enjoy it! It's not you!"

Yami could only chuckle at the irony as he leaned forward, so close that Yugi could feel the snarl, wet and cold against the side of his throat.

"If it's not me who is killing you, then who is it, Yugi?"

"I don't...I don't know! Yami, please stop, you're hurting me! YAMI!" Yugi could only see Yami's pale face rising, all moonlight and spirit and shadow and murder as the fingers tightened without mercy into his throat, into his windpipe, until the last of his air left his body with a strangled grunt. There was a sick sound of gurgled bile from Yugi's throat as he tensed, then went limp. His head bowed in finality, his entreating hands slid bonelessly to his sides to dangle in the gentle sway of Yami's body, as he slowly lowered the small body to the ground, with a sneer.


	29. Monster Reborn

It was the mad laughter that filled the room that startled him out of his insane revelry. A laugh laced with agony, hidden under a veneer of malicious intent, and growing louder and higher as Yami swung around in alarm, the eye of Horus still lighting his forehead.  
His heart slithered to mute, paralyzing panic when he saw the glint of blade in the shadows, the familiar ice-colored eyes, the tilt of the arrogant head, and the white garments over the slim body stained with his own blood.

Seth emerged from the darkness, his head cocked and eyebrow raised in amusement, as he nudged Yugi's cold body with a toe, and tipped the face over for better viewing. Yugi's face was slack, the jaw and eyes open wide, the violence against him clear in the purple handprints that crowned his throat. Seth wiped away some of the tears and saliva from his boot on Yugi's torn sleeve, before he turned back to face Yami.

"Well done, my Pharoah. I cannot believe that you could commit treachery to rival mine, but this..." Seth swung the bloodied dagger in a wide arch over Yugi's body. "To murder a child, who was pleading for his life? A child you were charged with protecting? I wonder what Ra would have to say about his precious annointed now."

Yami gulped, and could only stare, stupidly at the horrible vision before him. "Seth?" He mouthed in a whisper, shaking his head in desperate denial.

"You are dead!"

Seth narrowed glittering eyes, before giving a regal, wry snort of amusement. "So are you. By my own hand, if I recall correctly. You were an easy kill, you know. Held down by four, drugged into submission before hand, and tied up as well."

Yami felt the cold blade grace his throat in a teasing bite as Seth smirked to see the tears. "It was not honorable, was it, Pharoah? You were such a sheltered, spoiled child, hidden away from the world, and existing in a lie of mercy and kindness. I know that it was Isis who made the final blow.  
Running the dagger through your still beating heart, as an act of mercy, yes? But it was I who made you suffer. It was I who made you long for death, if only to escape that pain...that delicious, agonizing pain."

The blade flashed silver, danced over his old scar, and Yami shuddered to feel its tip gently slicing through the buckle he wore to hide the mangled flesh. The hidious voice continued, as one hand slid up the back of his neck, then in a mocking swirl down his trembling spine.

"But, I am not here for that now, my Pharoah. No, not that. Not yet." It was a hissed promise, as Yami heard tongue glide over bared teeth, behind him.

"I will return to collect on that, my Pharoah. You have my word. But for now..." Yami felt the blade flick over his neck, as the old wound throbbed in answer.  
Blinding agony came searing back as his knees gave way, and his useless hands latched over the wound. He felt the warm scarlet trickling through his hands as Seth raised the blade and eyed the dribbling gore with satisfaction.

"This is enough, you see. To know now that even after 5000 years, you still cringe and cry and cower whenever you think of your last moments. It is pleasing to me."

Yami could only cower and tremble, his eyes darting stupidly from Yugi's splayed form, to Seth's horrific manifestation. "You were banished to the Shadows! This cannot be!" He murmured, the fear giving way to complete stupor, as he could only stare wide-eyed and transfixed.

"It is what it is, my king. Tell me. Does your mind have the ability to convince your eyes they are lying?" The velvet purr and the dagger flicked in emphasis, as Seth lowered his ice colored eyes to peer down at Yugi's body. "Truly, Pharoah, I did not know you had this amount of evil in you. Did you feel relieved that you no longer-excuse the expression-had to choke back your anger? Did it not feel liberating to give in to that sheer power of rage?" Seth whispered in a smug growl as he glided behind Yami, his voice dropping even lower, "Did you not feel the same godlike strength pulsing through you that I felt when I ended your pathetic existance in Egypt?"

Yami only looked up at him, his jaw trembling, his eyes nakedly raw with a savage realization, as he looked down at Yugi with dawning horror.  
"What have I done?" It was a harsh whisper, as his eyes wildly swung from Yugi to Seth in aching guilt.

"I see that death has made you stupid, if not blind, my king. So, allow me the privledge of enlightening you. You murdered an inocent child in cold blood. You violated your own integrity by slaying the one whom Ra charged you to protect, and you killed a close friend, just as you strangled the Priestess Isis in a savage act of depravity that I can never hope to rival. Oh, yes..." Seth smiled in satisfaction to see Yami's involuntary flinch of anguish.

"Oh, my king, how pathetic you have become. Parading yourself about as deliverer, and savior, groaning so nobly under the twin burden and sacrifice and honor. Laboring in the lies you tell yourself in the mad effort to deny that you are nothing but a depraved monster. Tell me, my king. What sort of punishment would be more fitting to a murderer than to have him sealed away so that he can hurt no-one else?"

Yami's face crumpled, as he shook his head in negating, pleading denial, as he felt the truth shatter all around him, the shards of all he thought he was scattering across his breaking heart. "Isis was my friend! I would die before laying a hand on her!"

Seth sniffed in distain, and shook his head with a chuckle. " You did die, my king. And you did far more than lay a hand on her, I promise you. You choked the life out of her, just as you did to this child, now. She was mourned as a goddess, and entombed with all honor, you know. I wonder what she would say to hear the Pharoah she served so devoutly disgracing her memory with such a lie from the lips of her own killer!"

Yami slid bonelessly to his knees, as he buried his face in fingers clawing through his hair. Seth watched with glee as he sensed the spirit's tortured breaking, the brutal sway of Yami's rocking as he babbled through his sobs, "I didn't do this, I didn't kill anybody, Ra forgive me, I did-"

"Yess..."Seth purred as he lay a mocking hand over the Pharoah's hitching shoulder. "What guilt you must bear, Yami. What unclean deeds you must suffer for, now."

"May I be forgiven, Ra help me!" Yami choked out, still rocking in his mindless lurch. Seth reached down, caressed the quivering chin, and tipped it upward so he could look at Yami directly. The swell of compassion in those glittering blue eyes offered such redemption, as he whispered in a soft, soothing tone. "Oh, my poor Pharoah. There is no forgiveness for those who kill...unless..." The insane, desperate hope that rose to Yami's eyes was satisfying to Seth, but sickening, as Yami gripped his arms in a fierce plea. "What can be done? What can I do to erase this, and make it right? I will do anything!"

The evil that came across Seth's hungry, calculating mouth as he stared down at the king was masked by a comforting smile. "It is possible, Yami. You must simply remove the taint of evil from your own savage deeds. It is only by purging the past that you can alter the future and make this right."

Yami gulped. "How does one do this? Please, tell me!" Seth's face melted into glossed over rapture, as he extended the dagger to Yami's outstretched and eager hands. With a finger ghosting over the scars across Yami's neck, he forced the bright blade into Yami's hands, whispering,  
"You must end this yourself, my Pharoah. End your torment of guilt, and rid the world of your evil. Sacrifice yourself for your mistakes, and maybe then you will find the forgiveness you so desperately seek!"

With a prayer, Yami raised the blade to his throat, the point poised and already drawing forth blood. His arm was drawn back in a wide arch, as he braced himself to plunge it through his quivering neck. Seth's cackle wafted through the strange roar in his ears, as he swallowed, and closed his eyes. He thrust the blade forth. 


	30. Of Ghost And Memory

Seth snarled to see the blade at Yami's quaking throat linger, so agonizingly indecisive, and quivering so hard that he was fairly certain the resulting wound would only be a

deflected cut, and not a fatal slice.

Yami's eyes shot open when he felt soft fingers encircling his wrist in a fiercely protective grip, as his arm was slowly dragged down from its deadly path. Shocked, his gaze wondered vaguely from the arched, slender, dark fingers, to the bare arms studded with twin gold bracelets, encrusted with jewels, to the face that was almost hidden by the cascade of ebony hair. He saw the sharp cheekbones, the glittering saphire eyes brimming over with tears, and the mouth drawn in a pleaing frown.

"Yami, my king, do not commit this despicable act against my memory, and your future! Do not let it end this way, please!" The rich cadence of her voice, the soft imploring, the flowing dark hair against the white of her garment,and the bronze, slender arms that were drawing him into a protective embrace were almost too much to believe as Isis finally worked the blade free from his fist, as he permitted it to slide down and clatter to the floor. Isis destainfully picked up the blade, dangled it between two fingers, with infinite sadness as she gazed at Yami with sorrow.

"My king...is this what you want? Is this the ending you seek?" Yami could only stare up at her, the anguish and shock at seeing her rendering hopelessly mute.

Trembling, a timid hand slowly jerked up, as questioning fingers glided down her cheekbone, her hair, as if seeking reassurance that she was more than a ghost and a memory. She offered him a compassionate smile, as she kindly drew his hand away with a very real squeeze.

"Yes, my king, I am here. I've been called forth to prevent you from making a tremendous mistake. Do not let Seth destroy you now...not after all you have suffered, and all you have endured. Yami, you have been so strong up until now, and I know that it is such an unfair burden to ask you to bear any more. But I am pleading with you, as a friend who loves you, do not end your life. Your time of peace is coming, don't forfeit it for a fleeting promise borne of a lie!"

It was Seth's sick cackle that made her stiffen, and Yami gawped to see her turn to face him, her face burning white, her eyes fixed upon him with deadly promise.

There was absolutely no fear, or cowering from _her, _as she gave Seth a viciously satisfied smirk.

Yami felt Isis gently shove him behind her, as she strode forth, her eyes narrowed to glittering points of a dagger, sharp, deadly, but still so delicately bueatiful, as her hands rose to the swirled gold of her Millenium necklace, the silver light dancing forth in tendrils of moonlight, deceptively frail, as they looped in arches of glimmering

jewels around her, and Yami. Yami gave a troubled glance to Isis, not understanding what power was at work now. She only lay a hand on his quaking shoulder,

gave him a kind smile. "Do not fear, Yami. All will be made right, in a moment."

Then, with a flick of her hand, her magic engulfed Seth in a shower of white sparks, falling off his skin and hair like rain, before he was completely consumed by their volume. Yami raised an amazed eyebrow to see Seth raising arms and gaping in wonder at the bueaty of the pearled drops that wafted over his bare arms, and then

lighted their way down in a shimmering trail, but he was not consumed, or dismembered.

Isis uttered a quiet command, "Be purged, be cleansed, be healed!" as she raised a hand high, and called back the white light as it rushed back into her necklace.

For a lingering moment, the jewel burned against her quaking throat, as she heaved, staggered, regained her footing.

Seth found himself stripped of the light, and he whirled around in panic, before his eyes fell upon Yami, and Isis. Horror lit across the deep eyes, his snarl fell into

a mortified grimace of remorse, his spine so stiffened with pride abruptly bent with humble and contrite apology, as he lowered himself to hands and knees, his

sweating forehead brushing against Isis's sandle toe.

"Forgive me...please, please forgive me! Slay me if you find it just, but please, don't force me to endure the torture of the dark again! My king, I don't know why I was consumed, and I am so, so very sorry to my core for what I have forced you to suffer. I would consider my own death but a small price to pay, my lady, and I humbly

give myself up to you both, to do as you will to me. It is only right."

Yami twisted around to Isis, arms flung wide in a pleading demand for an explanation, as he lay a quaking hand over the scars, and almost swooned from the confused anguish.

"My king...My Necklace does not have the power to destroy, or to wound any more. It can only restore and heal. By purging Seth of the darkness he was overcome with,

he will threaten you no more."

Yami's eyes only slid shut, as he shook his throbbing head, and coiled his arms around himself protectively. His scars and rib ached horribly, his vision was swimming, and from the quivering that now radiated from his very core, he knew he would probably fall and not rise again. Was this Isis's idea of healing?! To purge the threat that

sent him shattered and weeping and weak, that mutilated his throat, and forced him to exchange his innocence for either brutal hatred, or a few thousand years of ressurected nightmares?!

Isis only lay a dark hand on Seth's shaking shoulder, and whispered, "You may rise, Seth. I know that you were the unknowing pawn in an evil plot, and you were not responsible for what you did to Yami. If he forgives you, I bid you go in peace, and move on to your rest. You are finally free of the dark."

Seth bowed his head in a solemn nod, as he slumped. It was so liberating to feel that evil gone, the strained days of his existance no longer tainted by voices and memories that screamed of death, and knives and so much cruelty he could not begin to speak of.

She turned to Yami, extended a hand. "Yami...I know it is much to ask, but will you forgive him? Will you let this rage go? I ask you,not on behalf of Seth, or I, but so that you may released from the hatred and the fear that the Puzzle feasts on."

Yami just looked up at her, his eyes hardening into narrowed consideration, and pain, as he put his head in his hands, and started shaking.

"Please don't ask me to do this. I can't." It was a broken whisper, as he turned to Seth with so much anguish and hurt, that he winced.

"You tortured me. You cut my flesh open, and you laughed. Even the thought of you forces me to remember how it felt, to be murdered, how harrowing it was to have my

throat cut, and see one I once trusted smiling over me as he stabbed me. I've been so haunted and afraid, and broken, ever since...do you have any idea how much suffering you have caused me, Seth?"

Seth's face crumbled as his stricken eyes fell upon the hideous scars, that Yami was now displaying in their full, brutal glory. He clapped a hand over his mouth, and turned away. "What have I done to you, my king?" The tortured whisper lingered between them, so much uncertain pain, and so many memories ressurected to drive them

all back into the waiting abyss.

"You destroyed me." The bitter rancor of being so unjustly wounded filled every one of Yami's words, as his hands fell over the scars.

"Even after 5000 years, they still hurt, I'm suprised they don't bleed anew, Seth."

Isis gently lay a hand on his shoulder, her mouth drawn in understanding.

He turned to her, the disbelief and the horror melding into a numbing tremor of his lips, as his face contorted. "I can't do this, Isis. I cannot forgive, and let go, and move beyond my own death. I don't have the liberty to flit about time as you apparently do, to absolve the evil ones of their sins, and then ask the innocent to bear their burdens.

Why are you asking me to be burdened with this, while Seth is suddenly unshackled from all the evil he has done?! Why am I still chained and tormented, and broken, while you so freely heal him?"

"Because he was trapped in a far greater darkness than you will ever see, Yami. It was not his choice." Isis whispered gravely, and sadly as she turned to gaze at Yami.

"Then whose bedamned choice was it, Isis? How is it that I willingly sacrificed myself to save the people from monsters like him, and 5000 years later, I am still just as broken and bleeding and weak as I was when he murdered me? When will my wounds be healed, Isis? When will this nightmare be over with?!"

Isis could only embrace him, trying not to weep herself from the injustice of it all. How she wished she could make this right for Yami. How she wished she had the power to heal him and grant him rest! But, there was only one thing she could do for him, one offer of salvation she fervently prayed he would refuse, knowing the cost...

"Yami, I can give you a choice, now. I can seal your memories of your murder away, so they no longer torment you. I can banish all of your fear and pain to the shadows,so that you will no longer be haunted by them. I can even sever your connection to the Puzzle. But, understand the cost, Yami. This trial you are enduring will eventually bring you peace. If you decide not to take your chosen path, you will be sealed into oblivion, with no memories to torment you. You would simply cease to exist."

Yami sighed, bitterly, folded his arms in finality, and shook his head. "Can it be any worse than what I've already been through? Never knowing how much longer I have to endure, or when the next volley will be bringing me back into the darkness? If it's an end to this pain, Isis, I don't care what the cost may be. Please, just let me go, and stop this madness before I'm consumed completely."

Isis was shocked at the defeated attitude, the morbid indifference, the overwhelming resignation and indifference to eternity her king was showing, as he wearily shook his head, no longer caring what the outcome was for now. It just cut too deep, and wounded too long for him to endure any more.

Seth stared at Yami, tormented, his ice-colored eyes lighting from Isis and back again, before he stepped forward, timidly.

"My king, and my lady...might there not be another way?" Isis turned to him, Yami ignored him.

"I mean...my lady, let the pain of the king fall upon me until it's ended. It was by my cruelty that he was broken..let it be by my strength and regard that he is restored.

Please, allow me to bear it until he is free...in this manner, I may repay him in some small way, and he will no longer be forced to endure the sufferering inflicted by me.

Yami stared at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion, before he gave Isis a troubled glance. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Recall how you had the ability to absorb your young friend's suffering from the Puzzle,Yami. You simply redirected it from young Yugi to yourself. If a person willingly submits to bearing the pain of another, it will restore Yugi to life and allow you to continue your role as protector. By sacrificing his life, Seth will be saving yours and Yugi's." Isis whispered, as she cradled protective arms around him.

"It would mean that you would have the chance to make your treachery right against Yugi, and he would have no memory of this occuring. It would reduce all this horror to a fragmented dream inspired by the Puzzle."

Seth lowered himself to his knees, bowed his head, as the tears slid down his cheeks. "Please, please, my king. Let me make this right. The only thing that would be worse than going back to the darkness is having my soul restored and living with the torment of knowing I cost you your existance, and an inocent child his life. Please allow me to do this."

Yami only looked at them both, in sad acceptance. "Will I have any memory of seeing you again, Isis?"

Isis caressed his hair with steadying hands, as she shook her head in sorrow. "We will meet again, Yami. And until that day, I will always watch out for you. But, this moment is outside of time, and therefore, when it's ended...will leave no trace of its existance behind. You will not recall cotemplating suicide, or your attempt to wound

Yugi. You will only remember what happened to the point of your collapse. Considering how troubled you are, I don't believe this to be much of a sacrifice. But, it is your choice. Do you wish to return to Yugi?"

Yami nodded his head, slowly. "I cannot leave this task unfinished, or cost Yugi his life...that is not right. I guess it is my fate to be the sacrifice, is it not?"

"This time, my king, it will be Seth who sacrifices. May this be one step closer to ending so much suffering." Isis gestured towards Seth, who strode forth, questioningly.

"My lady, what do I need to do?"

"You need do nothing, Seth. Please remain where you are. I believe that you would only trouble Yami more if you came closer. My king, are you prepared?"

Yami cringed. "What will this involve, Isis?"

Isis gave him a rare, coy smile. "Nothing at all, my king, except that you be willing to yield your anguish."

Yami gave her a tired, bitter smirk. "I have been willing for 5000 years, Isis."

Isis only lay a palm across his heart, and whispered an ancient incantation. "Shadows, come forth, and rest in your new home." It was a snarled invocation, and Yami always hated the effect that such dark magic had on her. Before he could even state his concern, he felt his mind go slack, and his heart suddenly swell and surrender.

It was the yielding of so much pain, leeched from his bones, purged from his scars, forcing the last remnant memories's ache out of his rib. Yami watched in horror as Isis

summoned the pain forth, directed high in a swirl of vicious shadows, as it arched high and hungry, only to swoop down on Seth in sudden, but expected agony.

Seth lingered on his feet for a brief moment, as the shadows swathed over him like a hungry dragon, tearing at marrow, and memory, flesh and heart, and all that he was,

as he was infused and absorbed. Seth did not scream, or cry, but raised both arms high in welcome, as he was consumed, and started fading away.

Yami's eyes bulged in disbelief as all of Seth was ripped away from the light, until all that lingered was his bright, sweat-beaded face. Seth stared down at him, his eyes glowing, the serene smile of surrender and peace lighting his lips, as he bowed for the last time. "Forgive me, my king." His last words lingered in the air, as he vanished.

Yami staggered from the shock, and found himself lowered to the ground by Isis, as she braced him against her shoulder and calmed him with soothing hands, rocking him slowly.

"My king, it is alright. It is alright. Soon this will be done, and you will be restored. Yami, please, please, don't tremble so." Her voice was as soft as a lullaby, as Yami

quivered in exhaustion and strain.

"Once again, you have saved me." He whispered. "And once again, you leave me." Isis's grip only tightened as she tapped his forehead with her own.

"It will not always be this way, Yami. You will come home. Rest in that promise, until then." Yami nodded, wearily. "How long?" Isis stiffened, but did not reply for a long, sad moment.

"I do not know the answer to that, Yami. But know we are waiting for you, and when the time comes...you will join us, where there is no more sorrow."

Yami winced. "It is time for my return, is it not? Will you do me but one favor, Isis?" She drew back from him, as her arms tightened in reassurance.

"If it is in my power, of course, my king."

"Invoke one of your slumbering spells upon me, and let me wake in the mortal world with Yugi safe. It would make it easier for me to believe this is a dream."

"As you wish, my dear brave king. I bid you farewell."

Yami lowered himself to a prone position, as Isis brushed aside the golden bangs, and placed warm fingers aside his temples. He stared up at her, bit his lip, nodded permission.

She chanted the spell, quietly. Golden radiance showered down on his body as he felt his muscles go pleasantly slack, and the kindly darkness of slumber engulfing him in peace.

He felt her fingers ghost over his forehead, as he shut his eyes. "Be at peace, Yami. Please, be at peace."


	31. Slowly

1A/N--This chapter is extremely light, and almost out of the story arc. There is no angst, no depth, nothing but a vague rambling. I will be posting more solemn chapters later, but I don't think this one

sucks too badly...or at least I hope not!

Yami! Yami, please, please, stop crying, and wake up! I'm sorry that I accidently moved your broken rib, but it shouldn't be hurting this much now! I don't know why you keep begging me to forgive you, Yami, but I'll do anything you want if you just open your eyes!"

Yami's eyes snapped open, only to slam shut again at the blinding light, and the stiff, odd feeling of coldly crisp sheets beneath him. Somewhere in the strange white room, he heard Yugi's excited chatter, and felt warm hands squeezing his own in reassurance. Yami groaned as his eyes fluttered open, languidly gazing in curiosity at the room. It was sparsely white, a glimmering, sanitized room that hurt his eyes, as he scowled at the fluorescent monstrosity that filled his room with the white glare. Yugi's glowing smile came into view as he peered down at him from the silver bed rails that were raised on both sides, as Yami could only stare up at him in amazement. "Yugi! You are alive! Oh, thank Ra! But how?"

Yugi's only answer was to stoop over the rails awkwardly, and swath Yami in a welcoming embrace, mindful of the damaged rib, as he carefully

helped Yami lay back down. "And, where, exactly am I? What are these devices attached to my arm?" Yami shot a fearful glance at the strange

snakelike device that dangled from a silver pole. He stared in disgusted fascination at the small,hair-thick glint of the needle that was securely taped to the inside of his arm. And he blushed when he saw that he was dressed in an extremely immodest gown that was held shut in the back only by a frail tie. He was grateful that he was covered by the heavy white blanket. He carefully raised the blanket and found his ribs bound and wrapped in an impressive bundle of white bandages.

"Well, you're at the Domino City hospital. That thing on your arm is an IV...um..it's something we use to get medicine into your body when you can't swallow it, so it heals faster."

Yami cocked his head to the side with a scowl. "It is uncomfortable, and I do not like things that are inside my flesh." Yugi sighed. "I know it's not much fun, Yami, but you're just going to have to leave it there for a bit." Yami nodded, solemnly. "What is a hospital?"

"Well, it's where sick and injured people go to get better. I couldn't get you to wake up, even after we came out of the Puzzle, and you were in so much pain before you passed out-"Yugi shuddered. "I didn't know what to do, so I called an ambulance. When they saw your injuries, they decided to keep you for a few days. I told them that you were in a car wreck. I'm sorry, it's the best I could come up for now." Yugi glanced nervously at the clock, and grimaced. "Great, visiting hours are almost over with. Yami-"

Both of them were startled when the door opened, and a nurse in purple scrubs and kind eyes offered them a smile before coming to the side

of Yami's bed with two small medicine cups. "Yami Moto?" She asked, cheerfully, as she gently lifted Yami's wrist to check the identification on the

medical bracelet. Yugi piped up, "Yes, Mayme, that's Yami." Yami stared at her in incomprehension, as he watched her set the medicine cups on the side table. He gave Yugi a sharp glance, and gestured at her. "Who is this woman, and why is she in this room?"

The woman tapped his shoulder, and then her name badge. "I'm Corrine, the night nurse. I came in here to give you some pain meds." She

cast a meaningful glance at the bandages winking out on Yami's chest. "From the looks of your injuries, Mr. Moto, I dare say you need them."

Yami drew himself up, wincing, as he hastily attempted to arrange the gown to conceal his chest, with an annoyed huff. Yugi smiled in amusement

as seeing the Pharaoh's dignity ruffled, but gave him a sympathetic look as he silently helped arrange the sheets. The sound of running water drew Yami's attention, and he watched the nurse fill a white cup with water, before turning around. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but visiting hours are almost over," she announced with a pointed glance towards the door. "Okay, Mr. Moto, time for your pills. One for the pain, the other to help you sleep."

Yami accepted the small white cup, and wrinkled his nose at the large, strangely colored tablets. "Yugi? What is this? What am I supposed to do?"

"Well, they're medicine. They'll help you feel better. You're in pain, and you need your sleep, right?" Yugi muttered.

Yami nodded. "Medicine is what we take in modern times to help that. Go ahead and take them, Yami, you'll feel a lot better." Yami stared at them, suspiciously, and glared at the nurse. Yugi blushed. "I'm sorry, Mayme, he's never been in a hospital before, so he's a bit nervous."

She stared down at Yami, with considering compassion, but Yami scowled resolutely at the pills and dismissed them with a regal shake of his head.

"I will not ingest any substance that leaves me unconscious, Yugi. I refuse to take them."

Yugi opened his mouth to plead, and argue, but was stopped by the nurse's hand on his shoulder, and a sly shake of her head. She pointed silently at the IV pole, as her gaze slid down meaningfully at the needle in Yami's arm. "Very well, Mr. Moto. If you don't want them, it's alright."

She gave Yami a bright smile, and Yugi watched uneasily as Yami smirked in triumph. "Maybe it would help you relax if Yugi stayed for a bit?"

She suggested, as she crept over to the IV pole. "My lady, I apologize for my manners, and I appreciate your kindness." He intoned. The nurse only shook her head in tolerant amusement, as Yugi slid back into the plastic chair beside Yami's bed. Yami did not see her adjust the release mechanism that would soon flood the unaware king's veins with a sedative. Yami stared up at her, vaguely troubled, as he suddenly found the mighty urge to yawn. He heard Yugi's soft suggestion, muffled by the vapid, comfortable fog that seemed to grip his mind. "Maybe you would feel better if you lay back and relax?" The sedative, unknown to Yami, was already at work, as the nurse set a soft pillow behind his head. He was unresisting as she lowered him into a supine position, and only yawned as she carefully arranged his sheets around his injuries. Yami felt Yugi's hand rubbing his arm in farewell, as Yami squeezed it in answer, too drowsy to speak. Before he had time to even think, his eyes closed, and his head lulled. He resumed his characteristic snore, as the nurse tucked the blanket around him. Yugi lingered, hesitantly, as the nurse gently shooed him away. "Don't worry about him, Yugi. He will feel much better after he gets some needed rest. You can visit him tomorrow. He's already recovering well, sweetheart. You'll be able to take him home soon." Yugi smiled, gratefully, as he gave Yami one last look. The Pharaoh's face lost its clenched look of pain and had slackened into the strange slumber of the drugged. "Good night, Yami." Yugi whispered as he carefully slid his

arm out from Yami's hand, and with a concerned frown, carefully laced up the gown's front, as he recalled Yami's flush of indignity. The nurse clicked the light off, and quietly steered Yugi to the door.

"I am sorry that he had to be sedated in such a way, Yugi. But, it was either that, or let him sit there and endure that broken rib, and the pain of his other injuries." Yugi nodded, thoughtfully. "I know. It's just...I hate lying to him, and he's so weak right now..."

The nurse shushed him with a wag of her finger, before straddling the hand against her broad hip. "But that will change, Yugi. Yami's not permanently injured. Aside from the broken rib, and just the general trauma of that wreck, he will be able to go home. He's bruised, and sore,

and will be for a while, but aside from those scars, he should recover completely.

Don't worry if he seems to be a bit...confused and distant by this whole thing. Hospitals aren't exactly the kinds of places that cheer people up, you know. Yami seems like a very, very tough young man. He'll be just fine, Yugi. Now...why don't you go home, and get some rest yourself? You're no good to him if you're too exhausted to see him tomorrow like you promised."

With a kind nudge, Yugi found himself being escorted to the exit, the nurse trailing behind him. "Yugi, go home!"She insisted in a kind but firm voice. "You know that he is going to be watched at all times, and we will call you if there is any change at all."

It was the flurry of activity that roused Yami, as he awoke to the rattling of a meal cart, and the snap of the overhead lights being flicked on so abruptly. He instinctively jerked, but winced and curled an arm at his side with the bruised rib, and was grateful to see that it did not hurt nearly as much as it did before. Curiously, he watched in silence as a rather harassed looking woman wearing the same green scrubs as the rest of the morning shift hastily raised the side table She positioned it across his bed, then dumped a plastic covered dish before him, complete with a plastic fork and a spoon still in its wrapping. She slammed down the carton of milk beside the tray, and

pulled away the cover. Yami watched as she ripped open the salt and pepper packets, showered the yellow-crayon shaded eggs with both, and proceeded to hack the

greasy meat into pieces. A very burnt biscuit sat on a paper plate beside it. Then she stopped, and looked down at him.

"Need anything else, hon?" She gave him an obligated smile, as her eyes darted nervously back to the full cart of other meals waiting to be delivered. Yami shook his head,

with a quiet, "No, my lady. Thank you for this...food. It certainly looks interesting." He forced a polite smile, and was surprised when she chucked him under the chin

with a wink.

"I wouldn't feed my dog this stuff, sweetheart. I'm just sorry that's what they feed you here. Say, they didn't tell me that you were polite as you are cute!" Yami flushed scarlet,as he looked down, embarrassed, but slightly flattered. "What's with that hair, though? Did you get drunk and brave, or did you just do it on a dare?" Yami raised a

questioning eyebrow, as he shrugged. "I am sorry, my lady. I do not understand what you mean about my hair.."

She gave him a coy smile, as she batted her eyelashes. Yami's eyes bulged in shock as she strode next to the bed, and peered down at him. "You mean to tell me that

your little spike and dye you got going on is natural?"

Yami could only stare in answer, as he ran a self-conscious finger down the length of one golden bang. "I will admit that my hair is unusual. But why would any sensible

human being deliberately attempt to force their hair into this monstrosity, my lady? I was born with it like this, and it matters little if I shave my head or color it into something else...it always grows back. I am sorry if it offends you, but it literally cannot be helped."

She let out a loud guffaw of laughter, and gave Yami a friendly swat on the knee. "Sure, it's real. You got a cute sense of humor, honey. I'll

give you that much. Your hair don't offend me. I just was wondering how you did it. Can I see?"

Yami allowed a wry smile. "Only if I have your solemn promise that you will not attempt to rip my hair out at the roots, and you proceed very slowly." She nodded, and

Yami obligingly lowered his head, his lips curled in amusement.

Timid fingers gently wove their way through his hair to his scalp, gently parting the hair away to look at the roots, and he felt her finger tips brushing over his temples to

the crown of his skull. He was rewarded by her gasp of astonishment as she snatched her hands away. "Wow! You weren't kidding about that hair, sweetheart. No dye,

no gel, no nothing. I guess your eye color is real, too? Purple?" Yami nodded, as his eyes fell to the eggs, and his nose wrinkled. She stared at the plate with a sly glance,

and Yami watched as she deposited another biscuit on the tray with a hasty finger drawn to her lips.

"The bread ain't too bad, the eggs are iffy, and the meat is crap. I don't think anybody would miss that biscuit, but be a good boy and keep it quiet." She gave him a dazzling smile as she huffed the cart out of the room. Yami watched as she waved. "See you later, sweetheart. Lunch should be better, hopefully."

"Good-bye until then, my lady. And thank you so much for your consideration." She called back, softly. "I'll bring you an extra cookie for lunch, hon."

And Yami was left alone with the plate of wilted food. He scowled, but raised the plastic fork to his lips, and attempted the slimy eggs. They were edible, but definitely not

something he would willingly consume on a regular basis. The meat was far too greasy for him to consider, at all, and the bread was hard, but palidable with enough

orange juice to soak it in before he attempted to chew it. He was grateful that he got an extra one, though he was not certain what to think about the nurse's comments of

his hair and eyes. He didn't appreciate her forwardness, or her ineunendos, but it did provide a flattering ego stroking, not to mention an extra bit of edible food. He had little inclination for figuring out women, or their strange ways, and was far too limited in his own experience to even try. Aside from Isis, who was more like a dear friend, and an older sister, not to mention his protector and trusted advisor, he found himself extremely wary of any coy flirtation, and chafed under any reference of him being "cute." If a woman truly proved her worth by seeking his friendship, and nothing more, he would be more than happy to give his heart to somebody worthy. But the petty games, and

the almost combative nature of so many made him recoil in disgust. If he couldn't figure out if a woman wanted him for his title, or for who he was, why risk his heart on such a gamble? It was simply not worth it.


	32. To the Uncertain

It was the tortured way he accepted his suffering, almost with perverse relish, that both disturbed and heartened Isis. What Isis regarded as a horrendous onslaught, Seth accepted with arms flung open in perverse welcome, a sad smile of acceptance and gratitude lighting his wan lips. Isis knew on a deeper level than she dared admit that Seth would prefer to delude himself into believing that the distraction of Yami's pain might somehow forge a bright and shining path to redemption, eventually.

But the horrific image of Yami bleeding and dying and hurting as his throat was slashed open, and that grim, triumphant smirk across Seth's lips was enough to harden her heart against any prayer that Seth's punishment be negated. And seeing the horrific damage done to Yami's spirit...the broken tears, and the sad way he could be broken without provocation...how each moment was refracted and mutilated by a blade wet with his blood, and the shards of memories fresh with violated pain that seemed to bleed up unbidden, even now...after so long...

She shuddered, with bitter realization. Even now, as Seth allowed another grunt of pain, and met her eyes with a coy, knowing smile, before he dipped his head in regard-It was Yami who was still suffering.

Seth had the luxury of penance, forgiveness to seek, absolution to recieve, something to toil for, and anticipate.

Poor Yami's only reward was 5000 years of existance, haunting the depths and the darkness of his golden prison, reduced to only an echo and a fragment. There was no forgiveness for him, because there was no wrong to be absolved.

It had been one of the few attributes of the Puzzle she had liked. The Item, for whatever strange reason, had yielded to her command of yoking Seth with the agony that Yami would have borne. The cursed gold had gleamed in smug secrecy, as if it were concealing a great and gleeful suprise, when she invoked the spell.  
It had not resisted, and she was almost gratified to feel its yielding. It left her saddened, though.  
To cage all that power must have cost Yami dearly. It had almost cost him everything.

It had sickened her, to see the manipulation of that young child Yami was incensed and adamant about protecting. She sensed from the beginning this boy...Yugi, that was his name, was worthy of the protection.  
He was obviously inocent and good, and an unknowing victim. To see the callous indifference that Yugi had handled Yami's obvious suffering from that wounded rib nearly drove her mad. She had not seen the Pharoah that powerless and agonized since Seth's brutal attack. To know that Yami was suffering because he offered himself as a sacrifice-again-was almost amusingly predictable, if there was anything delightful about the young king's anguish continuing. But, it was seeing Yami's pain harden into brutal retribution, and seeing the monster awaken from the broken wreck, and the rage flame forth from the vulnerability that tore at her.

Isis sighed at the deception she was forced to manufacture, biting her lip in bitter contemplation at how far the spiraling aftermath of the lie would be now. What she neglected to tell Yami, what she vowed never to voice to anybody, regardless of the cost...was that Yami had actually attempted to kill Yugi. That horrendous nightmare was definitely spurred on by the Puzzle, of course...but it gave her little comfort. The rage, the tortured helplessness, the onslaught of torment...any one of those things could be the final blow that shattered Yami beyond any salvation. And what would arise from those shattered fragments of his soul, would either be a broken wreck bleeding itself out beyound any hope of rising, or a monster forged by rage and burning for eternity against the scars it was forced to bare.  
She flinched when she heard Seth's pathetic groan of her name.

With a resignated sigh, she bowed her head, quickly hiked the flowing hem of her white skirt above her ankles so they would not be slimed by the muck that seemed to coat the floor. It was the rattle of chains, and the soft, heartbreaking smile that lit Seth's face that made her gut clench in revulsion. The glitter of insane rapture danced across his fever-bright eyes, as he beamed up at her from the floor, uncrossing his shackled legs and extending a shaking arm to reveal yet another scar.

"Isis...my lady Isis!" He whispered, rocking back and forth, with a high-pitched giggle. "Look! I've been granted another scar! Another pain my lord bears no longer!"

The "scar" was a deep slash, the scarlet weeping in a slow trickled down the filthy rags that covered his arm.  
Seth eyed it with delight, giggled again, and put the battered limb to his mouth. Isis wanted to wretch when she saw his tongue dance across his own flesh and lap it up like a dog.

It disgusted her, but she hid it well, with the ease of long-suffering tolerance. With a sigh, she reached for the fresh water that sat untouched by Seth, and the pristine white cloth she had brought to try to tend to some of his wounds. Dipping it in the water until it was soaked, she extended her hands to Seth.

"Will you allow me to see it, please?" She gave him a disarming smile, inwardly wincing at what was to come.

Seto stared up at her, a petulant, childish pout gracing his once wise, and stern features. He then nodded, eagerly, lurched forward on hands and knees, and, as if he were offering a rare jewel, thrust the filthy limb into her lap, proudly.

Isis was startled, but she cupped his cheek in a reassuring pat, comforting him the way she would a small child. This was the level the high priest had been reduced to by his own choices. She did not torture herself into thinking what horrors might have awaited Yami, were it not for Seth's decision. In a perverse way, she was glad that the maddness had engulfed Seth. It had broken his mind, yes, and left him this delusional babbling wretch, but it had spared him the guilt, and freed him from any more responsibility.

With a gentle grip on his dirty wrist, she dabbed at the flesh with the cloth, only to hear the animalistic scream explode from Seth's lips. She sighed, and hastily wiped away as much as she could before he succeeded in snatching his wrist away, and snarling at her, as he coiled himself up in a corner, and shoved his bottom lip out in a balant pout.

"You hurt me, Isis. Only bad people hurt this much. Was I a bad person to deserve this?"

Isis watched with sad finality to see the scar reappear, and bleed afresh, as Seth stopped to gaze at it, the rapture filling his eyes, as he raised it to her.

"It's back!" He whispered, in wonder. "It can't be taken away. It's mine, you see. Another gift from my king."

Isis forced herself to smile, accomodatingly, as she pat Seth's shoulder. "Yes, Seto. It is another gift."

His giggle made her shiver, as she turned away. It was too disgusting and sad to see Seth so damaged.

Isis knew that he would pay a high price for his treachery, but to be driven insane and now existing with a decaying mind seemed almost too cruel in retribution. With each new onslaught, there was another level of Seth's essence that was stripped away. Whether or not it came back...Isis did not know.  
She remembered the tortured night, so long ago, when Yami had succumbed to madness, and was left babbling as a child. She remembered the agonized awareness that flitted across his terror-widened eyes,  
and his reaction. He had thrust a knife in her hand and pleaded with her to kill him to save him from ...this.  
Seth gave her a grin, as he raised the wrist again, branishing the scar and giggling.

Isis turned away so he could see her tears.

A/N: First of all, thank God I have never suffered the misfortune of having a broken rib. From the research I have done in writing this chapter, they really suck because you can't exactly splint a broken rib, or cast it the way you would, say a broken foot, (which I have endured, and it hurt like hell!) The problem with a broken rib is that you have to keep breathing, which means that whenever you take a breath, you move the broken bone. A broken rib is not usually supported by an elastic bandage, or anything that would restrict the breathing because a person has a high chance of developing a lung infection, (like pneumonia) if they don't cough, ect. I didn't know this, so it led to a few re-writes on this chapter. Anyway, with that background information...on with the story.

It only hurt when he breathed, which meant it hurt all the time. Yami found himself forced to inhale short, high pants of breath, or the dull ache that laced up his side from the rib fracture would explode into searing agony. He did not understand why he was not allowed to have a splint for the bone, or at least something to lend his battered chest some support. He heard the vague, and strange idea that any chest compression could lead to complications, but he paid them little heed. All he knew was that he was hurting and it seemed that there was nothing to be done, besides prop himself up awkwardly on the stiff pillows that he had piled at his side, and down one of the many pain pills that arrived in a steady stream.

The doctor had ordered him x-rayed to make sure that there was nothing else amiss, and Yami almost had to be sedated for the simple procedure to be accomplished. Solomon had explained to poor Yami that the doctors merely wanted "pictures of what's inside you to see if there's anything amiss." To Yami, that translated that he was to be callously cut open so that idle curiosity would be sated, and he cowered like a beaten dog against the hospital bed, refusing to let anybody near him until Solomon himself allowed his hand to be x-rayed, and Yami finally believed there was nothing to fear.

It was both fascinating and sad to see his bones, looking like the bars of a prison cell in such contrast of shining white to the black background. To see the innerworkings of his strange body was certainly unnerving.  
But, he recieved the welcoming news that he was deemed well enough to discharge from the hospital, sometime the following day. Solomon gave Yami a bright, welcome grin, as Yami lay back in the hospital bed, that night.He had been given a painkiller, and the effects were obvious, from both his drooping eyelids, to his slow breathing. But, Yami was fighting the urge to sleep with every core of his being, for the moment. Solomon had to restrain himself from forcing the spirit to remain prone, as Yami struggled to rise from the bed. He grimaced at the sharp pain at his side, and wilted back into the sheets with a groan. He raised an eyebrow when he saw Solomon's brow furrowed with concern and waved him down.

"It only hurts if I move in a way that aggrivates it, sir. For a broken bone, it is not overly difficult."

Solomon only nodded sadly. "Why don't you rest, now, Yami? I know that medication is affecting you now.  
Aren't you feeling rather drowsy?"

Yami yawned, blinked languidly. "It is rude of me to sleep when you are kind enough to visit, sir." His words were sluggish, as Solomon reached over to give him a reassuring pat on the arm.

"I'd best be on my way, then, Yami. I'll be here tomorrow to pick you up from the hospital."

There was no answer from Yami. He had already drifted to sleep. Solomon ruffled the golden bangs, and covered Yami with the blanket, before silently leaving the room, with a fond smile.

It was the cloying guilt and the sense of unnatural dread that clouded over everything that made Yugi almost weep when his grandfather announced he was driving to the hospital to retrieve Yami. Yugi had shocked the old man by saying he preferred to stay at home and prepare a little welcome of his own for the spirit who saved his life. Solomon, of course, had no way of knowing the true cause of Yami's injuries. All Yugi had told him was that Yami had "fallen on his rib cage," and "passed out." The fact that such a minor event could lead to nearly a week in the hospital, and almost costing Yami and Yugi their lives was never spoken of. Yugi shivered. He could not bear the thought of facing Yami now.

To recall how Yami lay crumbling and suffering underneith his single hand over his ribs...to see the bewildered hurt, the pleading, the tears, and finally, the sobbing breakdown, completed by Yami's collapse from the pain, only to be ressurected with so much rage and madness...

Yugi gulped, as he raised a trembling hand to his neck, recalling the fire and the cruelty that filled Yami's eyes, as his hands arched and bit into his flesh, strangling, and agonizing...

Yugi grimaced, and shrugged it off as an unpleasant memory, sighing when he realized he never had been able to lie to himself well enough for it to work. It had left Yugi seared to the bones with paralyzing fear, to see that ugly side of Yami. It was a side that Yugi sincerely hoped he would never see again.  
He flinched when he heard the car roll into the driveway, and sighed, noting the warning that coiled in his gut, ominous as a storm cloud.

He heard Solomon bellow in greeting, announcing with joy that Yami had returned. Yugi felt the shudder reverberate through him, as he forced himself to go downstairs, shutting the door behind him. The troubling questions lingered in the air, haunting ghosts of the past, and blind seers gathering in the shadows to devour the future. 


	33. Hidden Malice

A/N- This is a very short one shot, written sort of on the spur of an inspiration. It's not really overt in what is really happening between Yami and Yugi.

I personally like corrupted angst that is subtle and vicious, so this is what came out. It sets the tone, I think, for some much darker chapters coming.

(I don't know how much darker it can get, but that's sort of the direction this thing is taking at the moment.) Anyway..I apologize for the short length of this chapter.

My choices are either frequent updates, or long chunks sporadically, and most of you seem to prefer the quick updates. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it...

Yami limped along, supported by Solomon's steadying arm, anchored so firm and kind under the crook of his elbow, as he slowly lurched up the

wooden steps. He grunted in pain, causing the old man to wrench around in alarm, the concern touching in the crinkled eyes, the worried frown

beneith his mustache. Yami shrugged, apologetically, and extremely cautiously, not wanting to aggrivate the dull throbbing laced across his side.

"I am alright, sir. Sincerely, I am." He whispered with a slight smile, and a nod for permission to continue on their crawling way. He never thought

that even walking could be such an ordeal, but he had been bed-ridden for nearly a week, and almost always sedated. He wobbled like a newborn

fawn, gulping at the trembling of his legs, and wincing at the thought of what even a minor fall might do to his battered, bruised side. He shivered, and

instinctively wound an arm, til it coiled around his rib, in a protective gesture. His muscles felt as if they were made of water, almost trembling in

the uncertainty of moving without collapse. It was dizzying, and aggrivating, and he sighed in frustration-again, only slightly, when his rib twanged in

warning about any wrong moves.

Solomon lay an understanding hand over his shoulder, with a nod. "These things take time, Yami. It will be alright. The worst is over now. We're home."

Yami sighed, and wobbled the last few steps to the door, and startled when it flew open, and he saw the welcome sight of Yugi lingering in the doorway.

Solomon's grin faltered when he saw Yugi's normally bright eyes darken over with ominous storms, as his body coiled, and tensed with wary watching that was

so different from his normally open stance, and welcoming smile to the world. Yugi's mouth twisted into a scowl.

Yami actually lurched backwards as if slapped, chafing under the awareness of something being horribly, horribly wrong, as he drew a shocked breath, and

whispered Yugi's name uncertainly.

Yami shivered, and sensed, rather than felt the warmth of the room grow chill, and then radiate back to its familiar brightness, as ordinary as a cloud passing over

the sun. Yugi melted, too, from frozen, detached malice to beaming, bright welcome, as he strode forward, arms flung wide to embrace Yami.

"Yami! I'm so glad you're alright! Come in!" Careful arms slid over Yami's wounds, gliding upward in the semblance of a kind hug, but Yami felt the cruel jab to his

sore side, tightening with purpose, clawing at it, _seeking_, as Yami suddenly yelped in raw suprise and pain, and folded inward with a gasp. Tears rose, unbidden, and he

would have fallen if Yugi hadn't sprinted forward, and caught him just before Yami lost his footing. Panting for air, and vision blurred from the tears, Yami trembled

as Yugi's hands gripped his shoulders and shoved him upright. The world span, darkened, as he sucked in the sudden rush of air, and groaned as his ribs twanged in a harsh, burning reminder of warning.

"Yugi! Mind his ribs, young man! You must be careful with Yami, my boy!" Solomon's voice floated up from behind him, with a grousing shake of his head.

"Yami, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you, honest! I was just so excited to see you home!" Yugi's cheery apology did not match the ugly, confirming smirk that snarled his

round mouth, or the glittering malice that flitted in his churning violet eyes. Yami stared up at him, bewildered, and shaking. Yugi looked...evil.

Solomon grunted, clapped a hand over Yugi's shoulder, and muttered in his usual manner, as he made his way through the open door of the game shop. His voice floated back to them as they heard his fading footsteps..."Tonight calls for a special homecoming dinner. What do you boys say to eating out tonight?"

"That sounds great, Grandpa! I'm sure it will be a welcome change for Yami after having to eat all that hospital food!" Solomon's answering chuckle was all that was needed.

Yugi cocked an ear to the open door, carefully listening to see how far away Solomon was, glancing over his shoulder to see that the old man was already engrossed in sorting out the latest shipment of cards, and too distracted to be bothered with any of his or Yami's affairs for the moment.

With that out of the way, Yugi turned to look at Yami, who was so bowed, and vulnerable and shaking, with one arm braced against him, the other latched onto the railing in a white-knuckled grip. Yami's eyes slowly slid upward, in tortured clarity as he saw Yugi glide forward with deliberate, eerie focus burning from his narrowed, shadowed eyes. Yami stepped backwards in instinct, unable to stop the tremor of horror as he saw the yawning darkness filling those once inocent eyes as Yugi nodded in satisfied confirmation.

He could sense the hungry evil practically licking his defenses the way a beast might casually strip the flesh from a kill, as Yugi only stopped when the distance between them was only inches until Yami stepped backwards again, fighting the urge to fly blind and bolt. He couldn't, He didn't have the strength. He felt his defenses trickling away like water, dribbling in icy remnants down his torpid, paralyzed nerves, as his flesh turned to rigid rock and his heart felt like a fist clenched over it.

"How is your rib, Yami? Is it healing well?" Yugi's voice was a low, mutilated version of the light cadence he was so used to, happy as birdsong, but now laced with so much malice, it hurt just to hear it.

Yami could not answer for a long moment, and he cringed when he felt Yugi's hand gliding over his side again, coming to rest on the wound, as Yugi's eyes slid upward to meet his.

"Stop this! Stop this imediately!" Yami shuddered, and wrenched himself away, wincing at the dull thud of the porch railing colliding against his bent spine during his frenzied retreat.

Both of them lurched in shock when they heard Solomon's bellow, as the old man lumbered back to the porch at Yami's panicked cries.

"Yami, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you, but I didn't want you to fall off the porch. I thought a fall would be worse than me pulling you away from that weak railing..."

Yugi's voice was all convincing, sweet concern, his face melted into a mask of sincerity and kindness, as he gripped Yami's shaking wrist and forced him forward.

Yami staggered forward, tortured, and stunned, and so bewildered, as Solomon pat his head, and frowned, wagged a paternal finger at him.

"You just got released from the hospital, Yami. You should really be more careful. Yugi, why don't you stay with him, and make sure he doesn't do any more foolishness, if he won't come inside and rest sensibly."

Yugi gave his grandfather a sickeningly angelic smile, as he gave a savage, satisfied glance back at Yami. "Of course, Grandpa. I will definitely watch Yami."

Solomon nodded, and left, not noticing the twisted, tense Pharoah, as he panted and cowered as far from Yugi as he could be, considering the corner he was so horribly backed into, now.

"Yugi? What is wrong with you? Don't you know that my rib is damaged? Is that beyond your understanding?" Yami's indignant questions were spewed forth in an effort to regain some precious control over his revealing tremor, and vulnerabilty.

Yugi merely raised a dismissing eyebrow, waving all of it away with one grand, denying sweep of his arms. "What do you mean, Yami? I'm sorry if I hurt you, I would never deliberately do that. You know that, don't you?"

Yami's jaw dropped in shock at this sudden twisting of his question. "But why did you suddenly grip me with the intention of hurting me, Yugi? Why did you..seek it out?"

Yugi's violet eyes narrowed with concern, as he tilted his head to the side, and softly answered, clearly hurt, "Yami, that was called a hug. Do you mean to tell me they never hugged in ancient Egypy? I already apologized for hurting your rib, it was an accident! And what did you mean, 'seeking it out?' What in the world are you talking about, Yami?"

"But..." Yami spluttered out, the retort dying on his lips as the mired confusion swept over his troubled thoughts. Had he imagined the whole thing? He flinched when he felt Yugi's hand over his sleeve, and looked to see the beseeching eyes.

Yugi sighed, wearily. "Will you forgive me, Yami? I hate seeing you afraid of me." Yami only stared at him, in tormented uncertainty.


	34. Tortured

He sighed, twisted fretfullly in the wadded up sheets of his now extremely wadded bedding, and gave up another weary, futile attempt to sleep. His head and ribs throbbed, his hair was tangled in a strange array of frayed spikes that complimented the state of his fraying nerves. It was all too strange, too alien, too.  
wrong, this strange world, this strange place, these people. He often felt as if he really were nothing more than a mistaken fragment of history, torn from the pages of where he should have been and so casually flung away to drift where ever fate decided to force him to be.

His weary eyes fell on Yugi, who lay curled in sleep, and softly breathing, the moonlight haloing his face in shadow, and his arms and legs splayed out with such reckless ease. He envied being that inocent, that carefree, that...normal.

Even in sleep, he was instinctively coiled up tight and defensive in the horrible waiting for the inevitable.  
His rib ached in bitter reminder, and his hand gently fell protectively against his side, as he sighed again.  
Yami curled arms above his drawn knees, draped them over the pajama bottoms that Solomon had given him. He startled when he heard the soft hitch of breath, as Yugi muttered something in his sleep and rolled to his side.

The dark scowl that lit Yami's face at the sound was ominous as he grit his teeth in disgust, and shook himself, as he glanced at the digital clock that showed the early morning. He hated nights like this.  
where there was no distraction to soothe his increasingly troubling thoughts, or ease some of the growing, gnawing ache inside that he tried to force down, or ignore, or seperate himself from. He could feel the rage surging through his veins, the hunger of the beast's lapping in such teasing torment, urging him onward to indulge in the darkness, and the chaos and the pain. Release the vicious instinct inside to the outside,  
throw away the restraint, abandon all morality, and be free, free, free!

And the most horrific thing that made him shudder was the change in Yugi. Yami only had fragmented memories of the entire event...the Puzzle so cruelly using Yugi as a means to punish Yami, the confrontation that almost killed him, Yugi screaming at him to let him have the pain...Yami shook his head at the disconnected thoughts that drifted through his mind and melted and merged independent of his will, and so hopelessly mutilated, he had no way of knowing what was truth, or lie, or some strange version of both.  
He remembered Yugi standing over him, hurting him, the rib curling against his touch in futile protest, the calculating, satisfied look in those eyes after Yami was provoked to helpless weeping from the blinding anguish...and the way that Yugi had forced him to endure more for his own curiosity, and eventually led to Yami fainting from the pain, and waking up in the hospital. Even his recall of those events were uncertain at best. He had spent most of his time there under the influence and the haze of the heavily medicated, and while it got him through the worst of it, it clouded everything over with the same confusion he had now with Yugi.

The smaller boy had lost his innocent friendliness towards Yami. Yami was not sure if Yugi was resentful of the sudden intrusion that had disrupted his life, or if he considered Yami to be prisoner, or property, or plaything. But, ever since the Puzzle's vicious attack, something had been poisoned between them.

It was horrible. Before all this mess started, Solomon treated him as a rational person, capable of making sensible choices. But now, that had erroded. Between his own experience of seeing Yami break down and crumble, and babble about ancient Egypt, and Puzzles, and whatnot, and Yugi's veiled suggestions about Yami's mental state, the old man was forced to conclude that Yami was teetering on the brink of collapse.  
The old man treated Yami with wary, restrained kindness, always watching him with worried eyes, and frowning as he insisted that Yami "stop exerting yourself, young man," or that Yami "take these pills so you can sleep, and heal." It was annoying at first, but confining now. Yami found himself imprisoned by the blind good intentions, fueled on by paternalistic regard, and degrading treatment meant for a lost, unstable child.

And Yugi...he shuddered. It was the subtle torture, that was designed to erode, and confuse, and hurt, rather than a direct attack. It was the sort of madness that Yami feared, and knew he could not fight well.  
Little things that were hidden, and just as wounding, because Yugi somehow knew exactly where to strike Yami where it would inflict the insidious damage, and not the gaping, raw and obvious.

Yami had managed to convince himself that the incident where Yugi had "accidently" aggrivated his broken rib was a thoughtless accident, but was unable to maintain the lie in face of what had happened since.

After everything that Yami had endured, and told them about, and suffered, Yugi had insisted on "guarding" the Puzzle. Yami reacted with repulsed horror, loudly arguing in his stern, insistant manner that the Puzzle belonged to him only. It had been the first argument that passed between them, and it was a frightening experience.

It was a few day's passing after Yami had come home, and he was comfortably perched on the couch, with his legs draped over the side, and his injured rib protected by a cushion he tucked under his elbow. He was leafing through a magazine, raising an eyebrow at the glossy advertising, in curiousity.

A warning ripple squirmed in his gut, and he felt the strange hands on the Puzzle even before Yugi emerged from the stairwell. Yami craned his neck to see Yugi. His face was hidden by the shadows in the stairwell, while fragments of sunlight that made their way through the blinds spilt white slashes across his guarded expression. Yami paled visibly when he saw the Puzzle, as Yugi casually swung the trinket from its chain, like a pendulam. Yami swore he heard a grunt of satisfaction from Yugi, as he rose in horrified outrage, but almost swooned from the pain that broke like a wave against his side. Indeed, Yugi's lips drew back, bitter, wise, showing the glint of teeth bared like that of a beast. When he caught his breath, Yami struggled to rise from the couch, and carefully strode to the bottom stair.

"Yugi! What do you think you're doing?! Give me the Puzzle at once!" Yami spluttered, extended a hand forward, barking at Yugi as if he were a child that could be easily scolded into submission. Yugi only cocked his head to the side, his eyes narrowed, and cold, as he gave Yami a scathing once-over. "I don't think you're in any position to tell me what I should do with my own property, Yami." Yugi's reply floated down the stairwell, as he drew up the chain in a wide, threatening arch, and raised the Puzzle back to dangle between them.

Yugi then swung the Puzzle, and almost smashed it against the wall, as Yami shrieked, and fell to his knees, quaking. The cruel chuckle sliced through his fear, reverberated to his core, as Yugi so casually strolled down the stairwell, stooping to bend towards Yami, as he lay a condensending hand over the tense shoulder to pat, like he would a wounded pet...

"You really need to relax, Yami. If I really planned on smashing the Puzzle, what would have stopped me from doing it by now"  
Yugi closed the gap between them,and Yami found himself staring up at Yugi as he tried in vain to slide away from him, as his spine collided with the trapping wall behind him. Yami trembled, too stunned to do anything but cower for long moments. Yugi waited patiently for Yami to regain his speech, as he swung the Puzzle so casually, just out of the reach of Yami's outstretched hands.

"Why would you torment me by even pretending to do such a vicious thing, Yugi? What have I done to you to deserve this treatment?"

Yugi stared down at him, saying nothing, as his arm suddenly flew out, arched wide over Yami's collar, and snatched Yami's neck. Yami yelped in suprise at both the strength and the suddenness of the crushing grip on his throat as Yugi only considered him for a long moment, before abruptly releasing him. Yami was flung to the floor, and sprawled out and hurting again from where his injured rib had been jarred. Thankfully, he had not actually landed on it, but he had no time to count his blessings, as Yugi only regarded him with a sneer. "You tried to kill me, Yami. Do you really think I'd be so blind, and forgiving and stupid to forget that?!" Yami had no time to reply, and soon, no breath as Yugi's boot suddenly landed against the injured rib, and he stomped down with all the triumph and indifference as if he were crushing a cockroach. Flesh and bone yielded with a sickening crack, as Yami squealed at the blinding pain, and shuddered at the agony. Yugi watched as Yami writhed beneath his boot, fingers arched and latched onto the boot, trying to push it away, as Yami squirmed and wept, and begged in broken heaving pleas for Yugi to stop, before he felt the crushing weight grind into the injured bone again. Yami shrieked, and collapsed. His head lulled, his eyes rolled back, the whites of his eyes glistening with the tears that streamed from the torture, and Yugi smirked to see the blood pooling around Yami's lips dribbing in a bueatiful puddle of scarlet by the Pharoah's open mouth. 


	35. The Price To Be PaidThe End

It was the sound of Yami's gurgled breath, as he slumped beneath Yugi's bloodied boot that suddenly made the darkness grow so much darker, as Yugi suddenly jerked in the rush of confusion, and horror, and overwhelming emotion. He felt himself being poured back into himself like some fragmented waterfall.  
He remembered so little of where he was, all he knew was that he was imprisoned in pain, and shadow, and shackled by every dark thing he had ever feared. Was this the hell that Yami feared with every shattered fragment of his being? Was this the reason why he lay so broken and bloodied underneath him? Yugi shuddered in helpless remorse, as he slid to his knees, gathered the broken form in shaking arms, and cradled him in a gesture of wrenching guilt, and sorrow.

Yami's body was so slack and yielding now, there was none of the coiled, frantic stiffening against the shattering, the hurt, the last desperate attempt to cling to breath, and life, as it was ground out of his crumbling ribs, and bled out between his clenched jaws underneath the heels of the one he gave up everything to defend. Yugi had felt the last breath heaved out with so much scarlet, wafting softly over his palm, and then gracing against his forearm for a lingering moment, as if in farewell, before the body finally released him, and Yami left him without opening his eyes again. Timidly, Yugi placed seeking fingers to Yami's still throat, hoping against the terrible truth he had instinctively known from the beginning of this horror. One tremor, one breath, even a tear, and seeing Yami rise up with all his fire to exact his revenge.  
anything would be preferable to the overwhelming emptiness of the shell left behind. Yugi balled fists to his quaking cheeks, and screamed.

The Puzzle glittered in smug satisfaction at the outworkings of its cruelest manipulation. Having the inocent, and oblivous Yugi deliver such retribution under its vicious influence was wonderful. And to see the torn, still body of the Pharoah, crushed by the Puzzle's evil encased in such small hands that would never act that way, had Yugi the choice was bueatiful. And to see Yugi so torn and guilty that he would be broken or end it all by his own hands was quite a stunning victory.  
-

Isis was again performing her obligating visit to Seth, in the strange spirit prison that he had chosen for himself. It was eerie to hear his joyous song rising high from the depths, a sharp contrast to the aching, cloying despair.The clink of his bleeding shackles, and his joyful laugh at seeing yet another cut appear only made him celebrate. She shook her head, sadly. The eerie song, so soft, and angelic pierced her. It was unnerving in its bueaty as it was out of place, and Isis did not know if she loved it, or loathed it.  
She stared, dumbly to see his filthy form huddled in the corner, as he rose from his crouch. His eyes were burning with light, and he lurched forward to embrace her.

She instinctively held him in her arms, for a brief moment, as he flung himself away, but held one hand in his own bloody fist. Isis winced to feel the warm, wet against her flesh, and gently freed her hand. With an apologetic grunt, he allowed her, and retreated back a respectful distance.

"Seth? Are you well?"

Her gut coiled in forwarning, as she studied him, seeking some sort of answer for this bizarre, and very misplaced happiness. Madness could cause such glee, but there was far too much exuberance, and clarity in those saphire eyes that now peered into her own, with some hidden knowing. For a few tortured moments, she was haunted by the vision of Seth's strong nobility, the rigid morality, that he held with so much grace before he swept it all away in a fit of rage and a blade to Yami's throat. Even after all the passage of so much time, there were some things that age could not erase, some absolution that was withheld, either by the kindly patience of divinity, or denied out of the sense of justice from the eternal. She was no longer sure of what.

There was a coy, radiating smile that graced his marred face. "I will be, my lady. Wait for a moment, and you will see." Her heart ached. Seth sounded so much like the one she once called friend, but she flinched at the dangerous urge to consider him restored. There was no way that madness could be so carelessly disolved from the heart, and mind, no way that right could be restored, and anguish finally ended. Wasn't Yami's cringing sobs proof of that? But...Seth was here before her, coherent, and respectful, and regal, despite the blood and the pain, and the horror. She pitied him, and no longer tormented herself in feeling guilty for it. Her heart had been broken over the fate of both of her friends, and she did not need to add the futility of the unanswered to her tormented thoughts, any more.

It was in the groaning smile, and the strange shaft of light that radiated from the cracks of the stone that arched so high over their bowed heads. Seth cast his wide, and seeking eyes to the source of this alien brightness that suddenly filled the darkness. Isis startled at his gentle nudge to her arm, and the beckoning, bloodied finger that gestured towards the bright heavens that were filtering through the roof of the prison.

"It is not finished, Isis."

His voice held wonder, not fear, as he shifted with a grunt of pain and rose to gape. Isis sensed the ripple of anguish through her soul, piercing her to the deepest quickening of her spirit. Something so entrenched in her essence fragmented against the terrible knowledge that suddenly rose in opposition to any denial she could contruct. No, the truth would always out itself, regardless of how painful the emerging of it may be, or the cost to those who were charged with it.

Yami was dead.

The thought reverberated through her, echoing through every hollow, shadowed fortress she had so diligently built in tears for so long, coiled teasingly around her heart that suddenly felt strangled, and yielding to join him, as she slid to her knees with a wailing shriek.

The images floated up like corpses suddenly dredged from the Nile's depths, so disgusting, so displaying, so horrible in their aftermath, as she felt fire and ice co-mingle into their own freezing burn that surged with so much potent frustrated rage through her trembling veins. Yugi's face filled her vision, with Yami's wounded squeal of pain. Isis snarled when she saw Yami's blood scarlet against the neat tile of the floor, and Yugi's bewildered sobbing.

That inocent child, swept away by so much of the overflowing aftermath that he had no consent, or control over that Yami sacrificed all to save.  
That wretched monster that had crushed him, and killed him, and tortured him...again...

Isis wept for them all.

Author's Note: I know, it's a very depressing chapter. To answer the questions, Yes, Yugi is under the influence of the puzzle, and not in control of himself, Yami really is dead, and Seth is still doing penance for what he did to Yami in the afterlife, and Isis is visiting him. I apologize for any trauma, heartbreak, disgust, or whatever issues may be involved in being submitted to so much torture. I don't hate Yami, or Yugi, and any of the other characters. I hope that God blesses each one of you for your faithful reviews and I hope you will forgive me when I tell you that this is the end of part one. The story will definitely continue, I promise!  
But, I have flogged all the tears and torment out of this segment that I can, and I need a bit of time to regroup, focus on some personal issues, and sort some stuff out. Your faithful support through all of this has been wonderful, and I wish I could repay you all for the kindness that you have shown me. I have grown as a writer through this, and I am so grateful that you've stuck with me this long. You all have been such blessings! To clarify one more time...A Proud And Bitter Crown will be continued! And, I will try to maintain my rapid updating that so many of you are so fond of, if my life and time permits. So, while begging your forgiveness, thanking God for you, and with this plea for understanding, I'm signing off at the moment.

Peace!  
CaleighoMeer.

P.S. A substantial help would be any suggestions that anybody might have as to the direction they want this story to go with. You have all had such good suggestions so far.

she gasp 


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